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diff --git a/36774-h/36774-h.htm b/36774-h/36774-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0fb4b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/36774-h/36774-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11689 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title>The Teacher: Essays and Addresses on Education, by George and Alice Palmer, a Project Gutenberg eBook</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + @media all { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 0; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + } + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + .chsub {font-size: .8em;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcaplc {text-transform: lowercase; font-variant: small-caps;} + div.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em;} + div.poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + div.poem p.indent2 {padding-left:3.8em;} + div.poem p.indent4 {padding-left:4.6em;} + hr {width: 80%; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both; margin: 1em auto;} + hr.tb {border: none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 33%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;} + p.center {text-align: center !important;} + td.chalgn {text-align:right; margin-top:0; padding-right:1em;} + + .center, .center p {text-align: center;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: 0.25em; text-decoration: none; background-color: #DDD; font-size: .9em;} + .larger {font-size: large;} + .padtop {margin-top: 3em;} + .smaller {font-size: small;} + col.col_border {border-left: 2px solid black; border-right: 2px solid black;} + div.poem {text-align: center; max-width: 20em; margin: auto;} + h1,h2,h3,h4 {text-align: center;} + ins {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em; clear: both;} + table {border-collapse: collapse; empty-cells: show; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + tr.bottom_border {border-bottom: 2px solid black;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Teacher, by +George Herbert Palmer and Alice Freeman Palmer + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Teacher + Essays and Addresses on Education + +Author: George Herbert Palmer + Alice Freeman Palmer + +Release Date: July 17, 2011 [EBook #36774] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEACHER *** + + + + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Jonathan Ingram, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='center'> +<h1>THE TEACHER</h1> +<p class='larger'><b>ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES +ON EDUCATION</b></p> +<p class='larger padtop'><span class='smcaplc'>BY</span><br /> +GEORGE HERBERT PALMER<br /> +<span class='smcaplc'>AND</span><br /> +ALICE FREEMAN PALMER</p> +<p class='padtop center'>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +The Riverside Press Cambridge<br /> +1908</p> +<p class='smaller center'>COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY GEORGE HERBERT PALMER<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +<i>Published November 1908</i><br /> +<br /> +SECOND IMPRESSION</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='PREFACE' id='PREFACE'></a> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +</div> +<p>The papers of this volume fall into three groups, +two of the three being written by myself. From my +writings on education I have selected only those +which may have some claim to permanent interest, +and all but two have been tested by previous publication. +Those of the first group deal with questions +about which we teachers, eager about our immeasurable +art beyond most professional persons, +never cease to wonder and debate: What is teaching? +How far may it influence character? Can it be practiced +on persons too busy or too poor to come to our +class-rooms? To subjects of what scope should it be +applied? And how shall we content ourselves with +its necessary limitations? Under these diverse headings +a kind of philosophy of education is outlined. +The last two papers, having been given as lectures +and stenographically reported, I have left in their +original colloquial form. A group of papers on Harvard +follows, preceded by an explanatory note, and +the volume closes with a few papers by Mrs. Palmer. +She and I often talked of preparing together a book +on education. Now, alone, I gather up these fragments.</p> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CONTENTS' id='CONTENTS'></a> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +</div> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td /> + <td> </td> + <td valign='top' align='right'><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>I<br />PROBLEMS OF SCHOOL AND COLLEGE</td></tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Ideal Teacher</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_THE_IDEAL_TEACHER'>3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Ethical Instruction in the Schools</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_ETHICAL_INSTRUCTION_IN_THE_SCHOOLS'>31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Moral Instruction in the Schools</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_MORAL_INSTRUCTION_IN_THE_SCHOOLS'>49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Self-Cultivation in English</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_SELFCULTIVATION_IN_ENGLISH'>72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Doubts About University Extension</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_DOUBTS_ABOUT_UNIVERSITY_EXTENSION'>105</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Specialization</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_SPECIALIZATION'>123</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Glory of the Imperfect</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_THE_GLORY_OF_THE_IMPERFECT'>143</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td /> + <td> </td> + <td /> +</tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>II<br />HARVARD PAPERS</td></tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The New Education</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_NEW_EDUCATION'>173</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Erroneous Limitations of the Elective System</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_ERRONEOUS_LIMITATIONS_OF_THE_ELECTIVE_SYSTEM'>200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Necessary Limitations of the Elective System</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_NECESSARY_LIMITATIONS_OF_THE_ELECTIVE_SYSTEM'>239</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>College Expenses</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_COLLEGE_EXPENSES'>272</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Teacher of the Olden Time</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_A_TEACHER_OF_THE_OLDEN_TIME'>283</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td /> + <td> </td> + <td /> +</tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>III<br />PAPERS BY ALICE FREEMAN PALMER</td></tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Three Types of Women’s Colleges</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_THREE_TYPES_OF_WOMENS_COLLEGES'>313</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Women’s Education in the Nineteenth Century</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_WOMENS_EDUCATION_IN_THE_NINETEENTH_CENTURY'>337</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Women’s Education at the World’s Fair</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_WOMENS_EDUCATION_AT_THE_WORLDS_FAIR'>351</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Why Go to College?</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_WHY_GO_TO_COLLEGE'>364</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='I_PROBLEMS_OF_SCHOOL_AND_COLLEGE' id='I_PROBLEMS_OF_SCHOOL_AND_COLLEGE'></a> +<h2>I +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />PROBLEMS OF SCHOOL AND COLLEGE</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +<a name='I_THE_IDEAL_TEACHER' id='I_THE_IDEAL_TEACHER'></a> +<h3>I +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />THE IDEAL TEACHER</span></h3> +</div> +<p>In America, a land of idealism, the profession of +teaching has become one of the greatest of human +employments. In 1903-04 half a million teachers +were in charge of sixteen million pupils. Stating the +same facts differently, we may say that a fifth of our +entire population is constantly at school; and that +wherever one hundred and sixty men, women, and +children are gathered, a teacher is sure to be among +them.</p> +<p>But figures fail to express the importance of the +work. If each year an equal number of persons +should come in contact with as many lawyers, no +such social consequences would follow. The touch +of the teacher, like that of no other person, is formative. +Our young people are for long periods associated +with those who are expected to fashion them +into men and women of an approved type. A charge +so influential is committed to nobody else in the +community, not even to the ministers; for though +these have a more searching aim, they are directly +occupied with it but one day instead of six, but one +hour instead of five. Accordingly, as the tract of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +knowledge has widened, and the creative opportunities +involved in conducting a young person over +it have correspondingly become apparent, the profession +of teaching has risen to a notable height of +dignity and attractiveness. It has moved from a subordinate +to a central place in social influence, and +now undertakes much of the work which formerly +fell to the church. Each year divinity schools attract +fewer students, graduate and normal schools more. +On school and college instruction the community +now bestows its choicest minds, its highest hopes, +and its largest sums. During the year 1903-04 +the United States spent for teaching not less than +$350,000,000.</p> +<p>Such weighty work is ill adapted for amateurs. +Those who take it up for brief times and to make +money usually find it unsatisfactory. Success is +rare, the hours are fixed and long, there is repetition +and monotony, and the teacher passes his +days among inferiors. Nor are the pecuniary gains +considerable. There are few prizes, and neither in +school nor in college will a teacher’s ordinary income +carry him much above want. College teaching +is falling more and more into the hands of +men of independent means. The poor can hardly +afford to engage in it. Private schools, it is true, +often show large incomes; but they are earned by +the proprietors, not the teachers. On the whole, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +teaching as a trade is poor and disappointing +business.</p> +<p>When, however, it is entered as a profession, as +a serious and difficult fine art, there are few employments +more satisfying. All over the country thousands +of men and women are following it with a passionate +devotion which takes little account of the income +received. A trade aims primarily at personal gain; +a profession at the exercise of powers beneficial to +mankind. This prime aim of the one, it is true, +often properly becomes a subordinate aim of the +other. Professional men may even be said to offer +wares of their own—cures, conversions, court victories, +learning—much as traders do, and to receive +in return a kind of reward. But the business of the +lawyer, doctor, preacher, and teacher never squares +itself by equivalent exchange. These men do not give +so much for so much. They give in lump and they +get in lump, without precise balance. The whole +notion of bargain is inapplicable in a sphere where the +gains of him who serves and him who is served coincide; +and that is largely the case with the professions. +Each of them furnishes its special opportunity for +the use of powers which the possessor takes delight +in exercising. Harvard College pays me for doing +what I would gladly pay it for allowing me to do. +No professional man, then, thinks of giving according +to measure. Once engaged, he gives his best, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +gives his personal interest, himself. His heart is in +his work, and for this no equivalent is possible; what +is accepted is in the nature of a fee, gratuity, or consideration, +which enables him who receives it to +maintain a certain expected mode of life. The real +payment is the work itself, this and the chance to +join with other members of the profession in guiding +and enlarging the sphere of its activities.</p> +<p>The idea, sometimes advanced, that the professions +might be ennobled by paying them powerfully, +is fantastic. Their great attraction is their removal +from sordid aims. More money should certainly +be spent on several of them. Their members should +be better protected against want, anxiety, neglect, +and bad conditions of labor. To do his best work one +needs not merely to live, but to live well. Yet in that +increase of salaries which is urgently needed, care +should be used not to allow the attention of the professional +man to be diverted from what is important,—the +outgo of his work,—and become fixed +on what is merely incidental,—his income. When +a professor in one of our large universities, angered +by the refusal of the president to raise his salary on +his being called elsewhere, impatiently exclaimed, +“Mr. President, you are banking on the devotion of +us teachers, knowing that we do not willingly leave +this place,” the president properly replied, “Certainly, +and no college can be managed on any other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +principle.” Professional men are not so silly as to +despise money; but after all, it is interest in their +work, and not the thought of salary, which predominantly +holds them.</p> +<p>Accordingly in this paper I address those only +who are drawn to teaching by the love of it, who regard +it as the most vital of the Fine Arts, who intend +to give their lives to mastering its subtleties, and +who are ready to meet some hardships and to put +up with moderate fare if they may win its rich opportunities.</p> +<p>But supposing such a temper, what special qualifications +will the work require? The question asked +thus broadly admits no precise answer; for in reality +there is no human excellence which is not useful for +us teachers. No good quality can be thought of +which we can afford to drop. Some day we shall +discover a disturbing vacuum in the spot which it +left. But I propose a more limited problem: what +are those characteristics of the teacher without which +he must fail, and what those which, once his, will +almost certainly insure him success? Are there any +such essentials, and how many? On this matter I +have pondered long; for, teaching thirty-nine years +in Harvard College, I have each year found out a +little more fully my own incompetence. I have thus +been forced to ask myself the double question, +through what lacks do I fail, and in what direction +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +lie the roots of my small successes? Of late years +I think I have hit on these roots of success and +have come to believe that there are four of them,—four +characteristics which every teacher must +possess. Of course he may possess as many more +as he likes,—indeed, the more the better. But +these four appear fundamental. I will briefly name +them.</p> +<p>First, a teacher must have an aptitude for vicariousness; +and second, an already accumulated +wealth; and third, an ability to invigorate life through +knowledge; and fourth, a readiness to be forgotten. +Having these, any teacher is secure. Lacking them, +lacking even one, he is liable to serious failure. But +as here stated they have a curiously cabalistic sound +and show little relation to the needs of any profession. +They have been stated with too much condensation, +and have become unintelligible through being too +exact. Let me repair the error by successively expanding +them.</p> +<p>The teacher’s art takes its rise in what I call an +aptitude for vicariousness. As year by year my college +boys prepare to go forth into life, some laggard +is sure to come to me and say, “I want a little advice. +Most of my classmates have their minds made up +about what they are going to do. I am still uncertain. +I rather incline to be a teacher, because I am +fond of books and suspect that in any other profession +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +I can give them but little time. Business men do not +read. Lawyers only consult books. And I am by +no means sure that ministers have read all the books +they quote. On the whole it seems safest to choose +a profession in which books will be my daily companions. +So I turn toward teaching. But before +settling the matter I thought I would ask how you +regard the profession.” “A noble profession,” I +answer, “but quite unfit for you. I would advise you +to become a lawyer, a car conductor, or something +equally harmless. Do not turn to anything so perilous +as teaching. You would ruin both it and yourself; +for you are looking in exactly the wrong +direction.”</p> +<p>Such an inquirer is under a common misconception. +The teacher’s task is not primarily the acquisition +of knowledge, but the impartation of it,—an +entirely different matter. We teachers are forever +taking thoughts out of our minds and putting them +elsewhere. So long as we are content to keep them +in our possession, we are not teachers at all. One +who is interested in laying hold on wisdom is likely +to become a scholar. And while no doubt it is well +for a teacher to be a fair scholar,—I have known +several such,—that is not the main thing. What constitutes +the teacher is the passion to make scholars; +and again and again it happens that the great scholar +has no such passion whatever.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span></div> +<p>But even that passion is useless without aid from +imagination. At every instant of the teacher’s life +he must be controlled by this mighty power. Most +human beings are contented with living one life +and delighted if they can pass that agreeably. But +this is far from enough for us teachers. We incessantly +go outside ourselves and enter into the many +lives about us,—lives dull, dark, and unintelligible +to any but an eye like ours. And this is imagination, +the sympathetic creation in ourselves of conditions +which belong to others. Our profession is therefore +a double-ended one. We inspect truth as it rises fresh +and interesting before our eager sight. But that is +only the beginning of our task. Swiftly we then +seize the lines of least intellectual resistance in alien +minds and, with perpetual reference to these, follow +our truth till it is safely lodged beyond ourselves. +Each mind has its peculiar set of frictions. Those +of our pupils can never be the same as ours. We +have passed far on and know all about our subject. +For us it wears an altogether different look from that +which it has for beginners. It is their perplexities +which we must reproduce and—as if a rose should +shut and be a bud again—we must reassume in our +developed and accustomed souls something of the +innocence of childhood. Such is the exquisite business +of the teacher, to carry himself back with all his +wealth of knowledge and understand how his subject +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +should appear to the meagre mind of one glancing +at it for the first time.</p> +<p>And what absurd blunders we make in the process! +Becoming immersed in our own side of the affair, +we blind ourselves and readily attribute to our pupils +modes of thought which are not in the least theirs. +I remember a lesson I had on this point, I who had +been teaching ethics half a lifetime. My nephew, +five years old, was fond of stories from the Odyssey. +He would creep into bed with me in the morning and +beg for them. One Sunday, after I had given him +a pretty stiff bit of adventure, it occurred to me that +it was an appropriate day for a moral. “Ulysses +was a very brave man,” I remarked. “Yes,” he said, +“and I am very brave.” I saw my opportunity and +seized it. “That is true,” said I. “You have been +gaining courage lately. You used to cry easily, but +you don’t do that nowadays. When you want to cry +now, you think how like a baby it would be to cry, +or how you would disturb mother and upset the +house; and so you conclude not to cry.” The little +fellow seemed hopelessly puzzled. He lay silent a +minute or two and then said, “Well no, Uncle, I +don’t do that. I just go sh-sh-sh, and I don’t.” +There the moral crisis is stated in its simplicity; +and I had been putting off on that holy little nature +sophistications borrowed from my own battered life.</p> +<p>But while I am explaining the blunders caused by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +self-engrossment and lack of imagination, let me +show what slight adjustments will sometimes carry +us past depressing difficulties. One year when I was +lecturing on some intricate problems of obligation, +I began to doubt whether my class was following +me, and I determined that I would make them talk. +So the next day I constructed an ingenious ethical +case and, after stating it to the class, I said, “Supposing +now the state of affairs were thus and thus, +and the interests of the persons involved were such +and such, how would you decide the question of right,—Mr. +Jones.” Poor Jones rose in confusion. “You +mean,” he said, “if the case were as you have stated +it? Well, hm, hm, hm,—yes,—I don’t think I know, +sir.” And he sat down. I called on one and another +with the same result. A panic was upon them, and +all their minds were alike empty. I went home disgusted, +wondering whether they had comprehended +anything I had said during the previous fortnight, +and hoping I might never have such a stupid lot of +students again. Suddenly it flashed upon me that it +was I who was stupid. That is usually the case when +a class fails; it is the teacher’s fault. The next day +I went back prepared to begin at the right end. I +began, “Oh, Mr. Jones.” He rose, and I proceeded +to state the situation as before. By the time I paused +he had collected his wits, had worked off his superfluous +flurry, and was ready to give me an admirable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +answer. Indeed in a few minutes the whole class was +engaged in an eager discussion. My previous error +had been in not remembering that they, I, and everybody, +when suddenly attacked with a big question, +are not in the best condition for answering. Occupied +as I was with my end of the story, the questioning +end, I had not worked in that double-ended fashion +which alone can bring the teacher success; in short, +I was deficient in vicariousness,—in swiftly putting +myself in the weak one’s place and bearing his +burden.</p> +<p>Now it is in this chief business of the artistic +teacher, to labor imaginatively himself in order to +diminish the labors of his slender pupil, that most +of our failures occur. Instead of lamenting the imperviousness +of our pupils, we had better ask ourselves +more frequently whether we have neatly adjusted +our teachings to the conditions of their minds. +We have no right to tumble out in a mass whatever +comes into our heads, leaving to that feeble folk the +work of finding in it what order they may. Ours +it should be to see that every beginning, middle, and +end of what we say is helpfully shaped for readiest +access to those less intelligent and interested than we. +But this is vicariousness. <i>Noblesse oblige.</i> In this +profession any one who will be great must be a +nimble servant, his head full of others’ needs.</p> +<p>Some discouraged teacher, glad to discover that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +his past failures have been due to the absence of +sympathetic imagination, may resolve that he will +not commit that blunder again. On going to his +class to-morrow he will look out upon his subject +with his pupils’ eyes, not with his own. Let him attempt +it, and his pupils will surely say to one another, +“What is the matter to-day with teacher?” They +will get nothing from that exercise. No, what is +wanted is not a resolve, but an aptitude. The time +for using vicariousness is not the time for acquiring +it. Rather it is the time for dismissing all thoughts +of it from the mind. On entering the classroom we +should leave every consideration of method outside +the door, and talk simply as interested men and +women in whatever way comes most natural to us. +But into that nature vicariousness should long ago +have been wrought. It should be already on hand. +Fortunate we if our great-grandmother supplied us +with it before we were born. There are persons +who, with all good will, can never be teachers. They +are not made in that way. Their business it is to +pry into knowledge, to engage in action, to make +money, or to pursue whatever other aim their powers +dictate; but they do not readily think in terms of +the other person. They should not, then, be teachers.</p> +<p>The teacher’s habit is well summed in the Apostle’s +rule, “Look not every man on his own things, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +but every man also”—it is double—“on the things +of others.” And this habit should become as nearly +as possible an instinct. Until it is rendered instinctive +and passes beyond conscious direction, it +will be of little worth. Let us then, as we go into +society, as we walk the streets, as we sit at table, +practice altruistic limberness and learn to escape +from ourselves. A true teacher is always meditating +his work, disciplining himself for his profession, +probing the problems of his glorious art, and seeing +illustration of them everywhere. In only one place +is he freed from such criticism, and that is in his +classroom. Here in the moment of action he lets +himself go, unhampered by theory, using the nature +acquired elsewhere, and uttering as simply as possible +the fulness of his mind and heart. Direct human +intercourse requires instinctive aptitudes. Till altruistic +vicariousness has become our second nature, +we shall not deeply influence anybody.</p> +<p>But sympathetic imagination is not all a teacher +needs. Exclusive altruism is absurd. On this point +too I once got instruction from the mouths of babes +and sucklings. The children of a friend of mine, +children of six and four, had just gone to bed. Their +mother overheard them talking when they should +have been asleep. Wondering what they might need, +she stepped into the entry and listened. They were +discussing what they were here in the world for. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +That is about the size of problems commonly found +in infant minds. The little girl suggested that we are +probably in the world to help others. “Why, no +indeed, Mabel,” said her big brother, “for then what +would others be here for?” Precisely! If anything +is only fit to give away, it is not fit for that. We must +know and prize its goodness in ourselves before +generosity is even possible.</p> +<p>Plainly, then, beside his aptitude for vicariousness, +our ideal teacher will need the second qualification +of an already accumulated wealth. These hungry +pupils are drawing all their nourishment from us, +and have we got it to give? They will be poor, if we +are poor; rich if we are wealthy. We are their source +of supply. Every time we cut ourselves off from +nutrition, we enfeeble them. And how frequently +devoted teachers make this mistake! dedicating +themselves so to the immediate needs of those about +them that they themselves grow thinner each year. +We all know the “teacher’s face.” It is meagre, +worn, sacrificial, anxious, powerless. That is exactly +the opposite of what it should be. The teacher should +be the big bounteous being of the community. Other +people may get along tolerably by holding whatever +small knowledge comes their way. A moderate stock +will pretty well serve their private turn. But that is +not our case. Supplying a multitude, we need wealth +sufficient for a multitude. We should then be clutching +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +at knowledge on every side. Nothing must escape +us. It is a mistake to reject a bit of truth because +it lies outside our province. Some day we shall need +it. All knowledge is our province.</p> +<p>In preparing a lecture I find I always have to +work hardest on the things I do not say. The things +I am sure to say I can easily get up. They are +obvious and generally accessible. But they, I find, +are not enough. I must have a broad background +of knowledge which does not appear in speech. I +have to go over my entire subject and see how the +things I am to say look in their various relations, +tracing out connections which I shall not present +to my class. One might ask what is the use of this? +Why prepare more matter than can be used? Every +successful teacher knows. I cannot teach right up +to the edge of my knowledge without a fear of falling +off. My pupils discover this fear, and my words +are ineffective. They feel the influence of what I +do not say. One cannot precisely explain it; but +when I move freely across my subject as if it mattered +little on what part of it I rest, they get a sense +of assured power which is compulsive and fructifying. +The subject acquires consequence, their minds +swell, and they are eager to enter regions of which +they had not previously thought.</p> +<p>Even, then, to teach a small thing well we must +be large. I asked a teacher what her subject was, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +and she answered, “Arithmetic in the third grade.” +But where is the third grade found? In knowledge, +or in the schools? Unhappily it is in the schools. +But if one would be a teacher of arithmetic, it must +be arithmetic she teaches and not third grade at all. +We cannot accept these artificial bounds without +damage. Instead of accumulated wealth they will +bring us accumulated poverty, and increase it every +day. Years ago at Harvard we began to discuss the +establishment of a Graduate School; and I, a young +instructor, steadily voted against it. My thought was +this: Harvard College, in spite of what the public +imagines, is a place of slender resources. Our +means are inadequate for teaching even undergraduates. +But graduate instruction is vastly more +expensive; courses composed of half a dozen students +take the time of the ablest professors. I thought +we could not afford this. Why not leave graduate +instruction to a university which gives itself entirely +to that task? Would it not be wiser to spend ourselves +on the lower ranges of learning, covering these adequately, +than to try to spread ourselves over the entire +field?</p> +<p>Doubting so, I for some time opposed the coming +of a Graduate School. But a luminous remark of +our great President showed me the error of my +ways. In the course of debate he said one evening, +“It is not primarily for the graduates that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +I care for this school; it is for the undergraduates. +We shall never get good teaching here so long as our +instructors set a limit to their subjects. When they +are called on to follow these throughout, tracing +them far off toward the unknown, they may become +good teachers; but not before.”</p> +<p>I went home meditating. I saw that the President +was right, and that I was myself in danger of the +stagnation he deprecated. I changed my vote, as +did others. The Graduate School was established; +and of all the influences which have contributed to +raise the standard of scholarship at Harvard, both +for teachers and taught, that graduate work seems +to me the greatest. Every professor now must be +the master of a field of knowledge, and not of a few +paths running through it.</p> +<p>But the ideal teacher will accumulate wealth, +not merely for his pupils’ sake, but for his own. +To be a great teacher one must be a great personality, +and without ardent and individual tastes the roots +of our being are not fed. For developing personal +power it is well, therefore, for each teacher to cultivate +interests unconnected with his official work. Let +the mathematician turn to the English poets, the +teacher of classics to the study of birds and flowers, +and each will gain a lightness, a freedom from +exhaustion, a mental hospitality, which can only +be acquired in some disinterested pursuit. Such a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +private subject becomes doubly dear because it is +just our own. We pursue it as we will; we let it call +out our irresponsible thoughts; and from it we ordinarily +carry off a note of distinction lacking in those +whose lives are too tightly organized.</p> +<p>To this second qualification of the teacher, however, +I have been obliged to prefix a condition similar +to that which was added to the first. We need not +merely wealth, but an already accumulated wealth. +At the moment when wealth is wanted it cannot be +acquired. It should have been gathered and stored +before the occasion arose. What is more pitiable +than when a person who desires to be a benefactor +looks in his chest and finds it empty? Special knowledge +is wanted, or trained insight, or professional +skill, or sound practical judgment; and the teacher +who is called on has gone through no such discipline +as assures these resources. I am inclined to think +that women are more liable to this sort of bankruptcy +than men. Their sex is more sympathetic than ours +and they spend more hastily. They will drop what +they are doing and run if a baby cries. Excellence +requires a certain hardihood of heart, while quick +responsiveness is destructive of the larger giving. +He who would be greatly generous must train himself +long and tenaciously, without much attention +to momentary calls. The plan of the Great Teacher, +by which he took thirty years for acquisition and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +three for bestowal, is not unwise, provided that we +too can say, “For their sakes I sanctify myself.”</p> +<p>But the two qualifications of the teacher already +named will not alone suffice. I have known persons +who were sympathetically imaginative, and who +could not be denied to possess large intellectual +wealth, who still failed as teachers. One needs a third +something, the power to invigorate life through learning. +We do not always notice how knowledge naturally +buffets. It is offensive stuff, and makes young +and wholesome minds rebel. And well it may; for +when we learn anything, we are obliged to break up +the world, inspect it piecemeal, and let our minds +seize it bit by bit. Now about a fragment there is +always something repulsive. Any one who is normally +constituted must draw back in horror, feeling +that what is brought him has little to do with the +beautiful world he has known. Where was there +ever a healthy child who did not hate the multiplication +table? A boy who did not detest such abstractions +as seven times eight would hardly be worth +educating. By no ingenuity can we relieve knowledge +of this unfortunate peculiarity. It must be taken in +disjointed portions. That is the way attention is +made. In consequence each of us must be to some +extent a specialist, devoting himself to certain sides +of the world and neglecting others quite as important. +These are the conditions under which we imperfect +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +creatures work. Our sight is not world-wide. When +we give our attention to one object, by that very +act we withdraw it from others. In this way our +children must learn and have their expansive natures +subdued to pedagogic exigencies.</p> +<p>Because this belittlement through the method of +approach is inevitable, it is all-important that the +teacher should possess a supplemental dignity, replacing +the oppressive sense of pettiness with stimulating +intimations of high things in store. Partly +on this account a book is an imperfect instructor. +Truth there, being impersonal, seems untrue, abstract, +and insignificant. It needs to shine through +a human being before it can exert its vital force on a +young student. Quite as much for vital transmission +as for intellectual elucidation, is a teacher employed. +His consolidated character exhibits the gains which +come from study. He need not point them out. If +he is a scholar, there will appear in him an augustness, +accuracy, fulness of knowledge, a buoyant +enthusiasm even in drudgery, and an unshakable +confidence that others must soon see and enjoy what +has enriched himself; and all this will quickly convey +itself to his students and create attention in his +classroom. Such kindling of interest is the great +function of the teacher. People sometimes say, “I +should like to teach if only pupils cared to learn.” +But then there would be little need of teaching. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +Boys who have made up their minds that knowledge +is worth while are pretty sure to get it, without regard +to teachers. Our chief concern is with those who are +unawakened. In the Sistine Chapel Michael Angelo +has depicted the Almighty moving in clouds over +the rugged earth where lies the newly created Adam, +hardly aware of himself. The tips of the fingers +touch, the Lord’s and Adam’s, and the huge frame +loses its inertness and rears itself into action. Such +may be the electrifying touch of the teacher.</p> +<p>But it must be confessed that not infrequently, +instead of invigorating life through knowledge, we +teachers reduce our classes to complete passivity. +The blunder is not altogether ours, but is suggested +by certain characteristics of knowledge itself: for +how can a learner begin without submitting his +mind, accepting facts, listening to authority, in +short becoming obedient? He is called on to put +aside his own notions and take what truth dictates. +I have said that knowledge buffets, forcing us into +an almost slavish attitude, and that this is resented +by vigorous natures. In almost every school some +of the most original, aggressive, and independent +boys stand low in their classes, while at the top +stand “grinds,”—objects of horror to all healthy +souls.</p> +<p>Now it is the teacher’s business to see that the onslaught +of knowledge does not enfeeble. Between the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +two sides of knowledge, information and intelligence, +he is to keep the balance true. While a boy is taking +in facts, facts not allowed to be twisted by any fancy +or carelessness, he is all the time to be made to +feel that these facts offer him a field for critical +and constructive action. If they leave him inactive, +docile, and plodding, there is something wrong with +the teaching. Facts are pernicious when they subjugate +and do not quicken the mind that grasps them. +Education should unfold us and truth together; and +to enable it to do so the learner must never be allowed +to sink into a mere recipient. He should be called +on to think, to observe, to form his own judgments, +even at the risk of error and crudity. Temporary +one-sidedness and extravagance is not too high a +price to pay for originality. And this development +of personal vigor, emphasized in our day by the elective +system and independent research, is the great +aim of education. It should affect the lower ranges +of study as truly as the higher. The mere contemplation +of truth is always a deadening affair. Many a +dull class in school and college would come to life +if simply given something to do. Until the mind +reacts for itself on what it receives, its education is +hardly begun.</p> +<p>The teacher who leads it so to react may be truly +called “productive,” productive of human beings. +The noble word has recently become Germanized +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +and corrupted, and is now hardly more than a piece +of educational slang. According to the judgments +of to-day a teacher may be unimaginative, pedantic, +dull, and may make his students no less so; he will +still deserve a crown of wild olive as a “productive” +man if he neglects his classroom for the printing press. +But this is to put first things second and second +things first. He who is original and fecund, and +knows how to beget a similar spirit in his students, +will naturally wish to express himself beyond his +classroom. By snatching the fragments of time +which his arduous work allows, he may accomplish +much worthy writing and probably increase too his +worth for his college, his students, and himself. But +the business of book-making is, after all, collateral +with us teachers. Not for this are we employed, desirable +though it is for showing the kind of mind we +bear. Many of my most productive colleagues have +printed little or nothing, though they have left a deep +mark on the life and science of our time. I would +encourage publication. It keeps the solitary student +healthy, enables him to find his place among his +fellows, and more distinctly to estimate the contributions +he is making to his subject. But let him never +neglect his proper work for that which must always +have in it an element of advertising.</p> +<p>Too long I have delayed the fourth, the disagreeable, +section of my paper. Briefly it is this: a teacher +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +must have a readiness to be forgotten. And what is +harder? We may be excellent persons, may be daily +doing kindnesses, and yet not be quite willing to +have those kindnesses overlooked. Many a man is +ready to be generous, if by it he can win praise. The +love of praise,—it is almost our last infirmity; but +there is no more baffling infirmity for the teacher. +If praise and recognition are dear to him, he may +as well stop work. Dear to him perhaps they must +be, as a human being; but as a teacher, he is called +on to rise above ordinary human conditions. Whoever +has followed me thus far will perceive the reason. +I have shown that a teacher does not live for +himself, but for his pupil and for the truth which he +imparts. His aim is to be a colorless medium through +which that truth may shine on opening minds. How +can he be this if he is continually interposing himself +and saying, “Instead of looking at the truth, my +children, look at me and see how skilfully I do my +work. I thought I taught you admirably to-day. I +hope you thought so too.” No, the teacher must +keep himself entirely out of the way, fixing young +attention on the proffered knowledge and not on +anything so small as the one who brings it. Only +so can he be vicarious, whole-hearted in invigorating +the lives committed to his charge.</p> +<p>Moreover, any other course is futile. We cannot +tell whether those whom we are teaching have taken +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +our best points or not. Those best points, what are +they? We shall count them one thing, our pupils +another. We gather what seems to us of consequence +and pour it out upon our classes. But if their minds +are not fitted to receive it, the little creatures have +excellent protective arrangements which they draw +down, and all we pour is simply shed as if nothing +had fallen; while again we say something so slight +that we hardly notice it, but, happening to be just +the nutritive element which that small life then +needs, it is caught up and turned into human fibre. +We cannot tell. We work in the dark. Out upon +the waters our bread is cast, and if we are wise we +do not attempt to trace its return.</p> +<p>On this point I received capital instruction from +one of my pupils. In teaching a course on English +Empiricism I undertook a line of exposition which +I knew was abstruse. Indeed, I doubted if many +of the class could follow; but there on the front seat +sat one whose bright eyes were ever upon me. It +seemed worth while to teach my three or four best +men, that man in particular. By the end of the term +there were many grumblings. My class did not get +much out of me that year. They graduated, and a +couple of years later this young fellow appeared at +my door to say that he could not pass through Cambridge +without thanking me for his work on Locke, +Berkeley, and Hume. Pleased to be assured that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +my questionable methods were justified, and unwilling +to drop a subject so agreeable, I asked if he +could tell precisely where the value of the course lay. +“Certainly,” he answered. “It all centred in a single +remark of Locke’s. Locke said we ought to have +clear and distinct ideas. I don’t think I got anything +else out of the course.”</p> +<p>Well, at first I was inclined to think the fellow +foolish, so to mistake a bit of commonplace for gospel +truth. Why did he not listen to some of the profound +things I was saying? But on reflection I saw +that he was right and I wrong. That trivial saying +had come to him at a critical moment as a word of +power; while the deep matters which interested me, +and which I had been offering him so confidently +day by day, being unsuited to him, had passed him +by. He had not heard them.</p> +<p>To such proper unthankfulness we teachers must +accustom ourselves. We cannot tell what are our +good deeds, and shall only plague ourselves and +hinder our classes if we try to find out. Let us display +our subjects as lucidly as possible, allow our +pupils considerable license in apprehension, and be +content ourselves to escape observation. But though +what we do remains unknown, its results often awake +deep affection. Few in the community receive love +more abundantly than we. Wherever we go, we +meet a smiling face. Throughout the world, by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +some good fortune, the period of learning is the +period of romance. In those halcyon days of our +boys and girls we have a share, and the golden lights +which flood the opening years are reflected on us. +Though our pupils cannot follow our efforts in their +behalf, and indeed ought not,—it being our art to +conceal our art,—yet they perceive that in the years +when their happy expansion occurred we were their +guides. To us, therefore, their blind affections cling +as to few beside their parents. It is better to be loved +than to be understood.</p> +<p>Perhaps some readers of this paper will begin to +suspect that it is impossible to be a good teacher. +Certainly it is. Each of the four qualifications I have +named is endless. Not one of them can be fully attained. +We can always be more imaginative, wealthy, +stimulating, disinterested. Each year we creep a +little nearer to our goal, only to find that a finished +teacher is a contradiction in terms. Our reach will +forever exceed our grasp. Yet what a delight in +approximation! Even in our failures there is comfort, +when we see that they are generally due not to +technical but to personal defects. We have been putting +ourselves forward, or have taught in mechanical +rather than vital fashion, or have not undertaken +betimes the labor of preparation, or have declined the +trouble of vicariousness.</p> +<p>Evidently, then, as we become better teachers we +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +also become in some sort better persons. Our beautiful +art, being so largely personal, will at last be +seen to connect itself with nearly all other employments. +Every mother is a teacher. Every minister. +The lawyer teaches the jury, the doctor his patient. +The clever salesman might almost be said to use +teaching in dealing with his customer, and all of us +to be teachers of one another in daily intercourse. As +teaching is the most universal of the professions, +those are fortunate who are able to devote their +lives to its enriching study.</p> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +<a name='II_ETHICAL_INSTRUCTION_IN_THE_SCHOOLS' id='II_ETHICAL_INSTRUCTION_IN_THE_SCHOOLS'></a> +<h3>II +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />ETHICAL INSTRUCTION IN THE SCHOOLS</span></h3> +</div> +<p>Within a few years a strong demand has arisen +for ethical teaching in the schools. Teachers themselves +have become interested, and wherever they +are gathered the question, “What shall this teaching +be?” is eagerly discussed. The educational journals +are full of it. Within a year there have been published +seven books on the subject. Several of them—it +would be hardly an exaggeration to say all—are +books of marked excellence. Seldom does so +large a percentage of books in a single year, in a +single country, and on a single subject reach so high +a level of merit. I shall not criticise them, however, +nor even engage in the popular discussion of which +they form a part. That discussion concerns itself +chiefly with the methods by which ethics may be +taught. I wish to go behind this controversy and +to raise the previous question whether ethics should +be taught to boys and girls at all.</p> +<p>Evidently there are strong reasons why it should +be. Always and everywhere it is important that +men should be good. To be a good man!—it is +more than half the fulfilment of life. Better to miss +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +fame, wealth, learning, than to miss righteousness. +And in America, too, we must demand not the mere +trifle that men shall be good for their own sakes, +but good in order that the life of the state may be +preserved. A widespread righteousness is in a republic +a matter of necessity. Where all rule all, each +man who falls into evil courses infects his neighbor, +corrupting the law and corrupting still more its +enforcement. The question of manufacturing moral +men becomes, accordingly, in a democracy, urgent +to a degree unknown in a country where but a few +selected persons guide the state.</p> +<p>There is also special urgency at the present time. +The ancient and accredited means of training youth +in goodness are becoming, I will not say broken, but +enfeebled and distrusted. Hitherto a large part of +the moral instruction of mankind has been superintended +by the clergy. In every civilized state the +expensive machinery of the Church has been set +up and placed in the hands of men of dignity, because +it has been believed that by no other engine +can we so effectively render people upright. I still +believe this, and I am pretty confident that a good +many years will pass before we shall dispense with +the ennobling services of our ministers. And yet it is +plain that much of the work which formerly was +exclusively theirs is so no longer. Much of it is performed +by books, newspapers, and facilitated human +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +intercourse. Ministers do not now speak with their +old authority; they speak merely as other men speak; +and we are all asking whether in the immense readjustment +of faith now going on something of their +peculiar power of moral as well as of intellectual +guidance may not slip away.</p> +<p>The home too, which has hitherto been the +fundamental agency for fostering morality in the +young, is just now in sore need of repair. We can +no longer depend upon it alone for moral guardianship. +It must be supplemented, possibly reconstructed. +New dangers to it have arisen. In the +complex civilization of city life, in the huge influx +of untutored foreigners, in the substitution of the +apartment for the house, in the greater ease of +divorce, in the larger freedom now given to children, +to women, in the breaking down of class distinctions +and the readier accessibility of man to man, there +are perils for boy and girl which did not exist before. +And while these changes in the outward form +of domestic life are advancing, certain protections +against moral peril which the home formerly afforded +have decayed. It would be curious to ascertain in +how many families of our immediate time daily +prayers are used, and to compare the number with +that of those in which the holy practice was common +fifty years ago. It would be interesting to know +how frequently parents to-day converse with their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +children on subjects serious, pious, or personal. +The hurry of modern life has swept away many uplifting +intimacies. Even in families which prize them +most, a few minutes only can be had each day for +such fortifying things. Domestic training has shrunk, +while the training of haphazard companions, the +training of the streets, the training of the newspapers, +have acquired a potency hitherto unknown.</p> +<p>It is no wonder, then, that in such a moral crisis +the community turns to that agency whose power +is already felt beneficently in a multitude of other +directions, the school. The cry comes to us teachers, +“We established you at first to make our children +wiser; we want you now for a profounder service. +Can you not unite moral culture with intellectual?” +It may be; though discipline of the passions is enormously +more difficult than discipline of the mind. +But at any rate we must acknowledge that our success +in the mental field is largely staked on our success +in the moral. Our pupils will not learn their +lessons in arithmetic if they have not already made +some progress in concentration, in self-forgetfulness, +in acceptance of duty. Nor can we touch them in +a single section of their nature and hope for results. +Instruction must go all through. We are obliged +to treat each little human being as a whole if we +would have our treatment wholesome. And then +too we have had such successes elsewhere that we +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +may well feel emboldened for the new task. Nearly +the whole of life is now advantageously surveyed +in one form or another in our schools and colleges; +and we have usually found that advance in instruction +develops swiftly into betterment of practice. +We teach, for example, social science and analyze +the customs of the past; but soon we find bands of +young men and women in all the important cities +criticising the government of those cities, suggesting +better modes of voting, wiser forms of charity; and +before we know it the community is transformed. +We cannot teach the science of electricity without +improving our street-cars, or at least without raising +hopes that they may some day be improved. +Each science claims its brother art. Theory creeps +over into action. It will not stay by itself; it is pervasive, +diffusive. And as this pervasive character of +knowledge in the lower ranges is perceived, we teachers +are urged to press forward its operation in the +higher also. Why have we no school-books on +human character, the highest of all themes? Once +direct the attention of our pupils to this great topic, +and may we not ultimately bring about that moral +enlargement for which the time waits?</p> +<p>I have stated somewhat at length the considerations +in behalf of ethical instruction in the schools +because those considerations on the whole appear +to me illusory. I cannot believe such instruction +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +feasible. Were it so, of course it would have my eager +support. But I see in it grave difficulties, difficulties +imperfectly understood; and a difficulty disregarded +becomes a danger, possibly a catastrophe. Let me +explain in a few words where the danger lies.</p> +<p>Between morals and ethics there is a sharp distinction, +frequently as the two words are confused. +Usage, however, shows the meaning. If I call a +man a man of bad morals, I evidently mean to assert +that his conduct is corrupt; he does things which +the majority of mankind believe he ought not to do. +It is his practice I denounce, not his intellectual +formulation. In the same way we speak of the petty +morals of society, referring in the phrase to the small +practices of mankind, the unnumbered actions +which disclose good or bad principles unconsciously +hidden within. It is entirely different when I call +a man’s ethics bad. I then declare that I do not +agree with his comprehension of moral principles. +His practice may be entirely correct. I do not speak +of that; it is his understanding that is at fault. For +ethics, as was long ago remarked, is related to morals +as geometry to carpentry: the one is a science, the +other its practical embodiment. In the former, consciousness +is a prime factor; from the latter it often +is absent altogether.</p> +<p>Now what is asked of us teachers is that we invite +our pupils to direct study of the principles of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +right conduct, that we awaken their consciousness +about their modes of life, and so by degrees impart +to them a science of righteousness. This is theory, +ethics; not morals, practice; and in my judgment it +is dangerous business, with the slenderest chance of +success. Useless is it to say that the aim of such instruction +need not be ethical, but moral. Whatever +the ultimate aim, the procedure of instruction is of +necessity scientific. It operates through intelligence, +and only gets into life so far as the instructed intelligence +afterward becomes a director. This is +the work of books and teachers everywhere: they +discipline the knowing act, and so bring within its +influence that multitude of matters which depend +for excellent adjustment on clear and ordered knowledge. +Such a work, however, is evidently but partial. +Many matters do not take their rise in knowledge +at all. Morality does not. The boy as soon as +born is adopted unconsciously into some sort of +moral world. While he is growing up and is thinking +of other things, habits of character are seizing +him. By the time he comes to school he is incrusted +with customs. The idea that his moral education can +be fashioned by his teacher in the same way as his +education in geography is fantastic. It is only his +ethical training which may now begin. The attention +of such a boy may be called to habits already formed; +he may be led to dissect those habits, to pass judgment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +on them as right or wrong, and to inquire +why and how they may be bettered. This is the only +power teaching professes: it critically inquires, it +awakens interest, it inspects facts, it discovers laws. +And this process applied in the field of character yields +ethics, the systematized knowledge of human conduct. +It does not primarily yield morals, improved +performance.</p> +<p>Nor indeed is performance likely to be improved +by ethical enlightenment if, as I maintain, the whole +business of self-criticism in the child is unwholesome. +By a course of ethical training a young person +will, in my view, much more probably become +demoralized than invigorated. What we ought to +desire, if we would have a boy grow morally sturdy, +is that introspection should not set in early and that +he should not become accustomed to watch his conduct. +And the reason is obvious. Much as we incline +to laud our prerogative of consciousness and +to assert that it is precisely what distinguishes us +from our poor relations, the brutes, we still must +acknowledge that consciousness has certain grave +defects when exalted into the position of a guide. +Large tracts of life lie altogether beyond its control, +and the conduct which can be affected by it is apt—especially +in the initial stages—to be rendered +vague, slow, vacillating, and distorted. Only instinctive +action is swift, sure, and firm. For this reason +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +we distrust the man who calculates his goodness. +We find him vulgar and <ins title='Was repellant'>repellent</ins>. We are far from +sure that he will keep that goodness long. If I offer +to shake hands with a man with precisely that degree +of warmth which I have decided it is well to express, +will he willingly take my hand? A few years ago there +were some nonsense verses on this subject going the +rounds of the English newspapers. They seemed +to me capitally to express the morbid influence +of consciousness in a complex organism. They ran +somewhat as follows:</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>The centipede was happy, quite,</p> +<p class='indent4'>Until the toad for fun</p> +<p>Said, “Pray which leg comes after which?”</p> +<p>This worked her mind to such a pitch</p> +<p>She lay distracted in a ditch.</p> +<p class='indent4'>Considering how to run.</p> +</div></div> +<p>And well she might! Imagine the hundred legs +steered consciously—now it is time to move this +one, now to move that! The creature would never +move at all, but would be as incapable of action as +Hamlet himself. And are the young less complex +than centipedes? Shall their little lives be suddenly +turned over to a fumbling guide? Shall they not +rather be stimulated to unconscious rectitude, gently +led into those blind but holy habits which make +goodness easy, and so be saved from the perilous +perplexities of marking out their own way? So +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +thought the sagacious Aristotle. To the crude early +opinion of Socrates that virtue is knowledge, he opposed +the ripened doctrine that it is practice and +habit.</p> +<p>This, then, is the inexpugnable objection to the +ethical instruction of children: the end which should +be sought is performance, not knowledge, and we +cannot by supplying the latter induce the former. +But do not these considerations cut the ground +from under practical teaching of every kind? Instruction +is given in other subjects in the hope that it +may finally issue in strengthened action, and I have +acknowledged that as a fact this hope is repeatedly +justified. Why may not a similar result appear in +ethics? What puts a difference between that study +and electricity, social science, or manual training? +This: according as the work studied includes a +creative element and is intended to give expression +to a personal life, consciousness becomes an increasingly +dangerous dependence. Why are there no +classes and text-books for the study of deportment? +Is it because manners are unimportant? No, but +because they make the man, and to be of any worth +must be an expression of his very nature. Conscious +study would tend to distort rather than to fashion +them. Their practice cannot be learned in the same +way as carpentry.</p> +<p>But an analogy more enlightening for showing the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +inaptitude of the child for direct study of the laws +of conduct is found in the case of speech. Between +speech and morals the analogies are subtle and wide. +So minute are they that speech might almost be +called a kind of vocal morality. Like morality, it is +something possessed long before we are aware of it, +and it becomes perfect or debased with our growth. +We employ it to express ourselves and to come into +ordered contact with our neighbor. By it we confer +benefits and by it receive benefits in turn. Rigid as +are its laws, we still feel ourselves free in its use, +though obliged to give to our spontaneous feelings +forms constructed by men of the past. Ease, accuracy, +and scope are here confessedly of vast consequence. +It has consequently been found a matter of +extreme difficulty to bring a young person’s attention +helpfully to bear upon his speech. Indirect methods +seem to be the only profitable ones. Philology, +grammar, rhetoric, systematic study of the laws of +language, are dangerous tools for a boy below his +teens. The child who is to acquire excellent speech +must be encouraged to keep attention away from the +words he uses and to fix it upon that which he is to +express. Abstract grammar will either confound the +tongue which it should ease, or else it will seem to +have no connection with living reality, but to be an +ingenious contrivance invented by some Dry-as-dust +for the torture of schoolboys.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></div> +<p>And a similar pair of dangers await the young +student of the laws of conduct. On the one hand, +it is highly probable that he will not understand +what his teacher is talking about. He may learn +his lesson; he may answer questions correctly; but +he will assume that these things have nothing to do +with him. He becomes dulled to moral distinctions, +and it is the teaching of ethics that dulls him. We +see the disastrous process in full operation in a neighboring +field. There are countries which have regular +public instruction in religion. The argument runs +that schools are established to teach what is of consequence +to citizens, and religion is of more consequence +than anything else. Therefore introduce it, is the conclusion. +Therefore keep it out, is the sound conclusion. +It lies too near the life to be announced in official propositions +and still to retain a recognizable meaning. +I have known a large number of German young men. +I have yet to meet one whose religious nature has +been deepened by his instruction in school. And the +lack of influence is noticeable not merely in those +who have failed in the study, but quite as much +in those who have ranked highest. In neither case +has the august discipline meant anything. The +danger would be wider, the disaster from the benumbing +influence more serious, if ethical instruction +should be organized; wider, because morality +underlies religion, and insensitiveness to the moral +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +claim is more immediately and concretely destructive. +Yet here, as in the case of religion, of manners, +or of speech, the child will probably take to heart +very little of what is said. At most he will assume +that the text-book statement of the rules of righteousness +represents the way in which the game of life +is played by some people; but he will prefer to play +it in his own way still. Young people are constructed +with happy protective arrangements; they are enviably +impervious. So in expounding moral principles in +the schoolroom, I believe we shall touch the child in +very few moral spots. Nevertheless, it becomes dulled +and hardened if it listens long to sacred words untouched.</p> +<p>But the benumbing influence is not the gravest +danger; analogies of speech suggest a graver still. +If we try to teach speech too early and really succeed +in fixing the child’s attention upon its tongue, we +enfeeble its power of utterance. Consciousness once +awakened, the child is perpetually inquiring whether +the word is the right word, and suspecting that it +is not quite sufficiently right to be allowed free passage. +Just so a momentous trouble appears when +the moral consciousness has been too early stirred. +That self-questioning spirit springs up which impels +its tortured possessor to be continually fingering +his motives in unwholesome preoccupation with +himself. Instead of entering heartily into outward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +interests, the watchful little moralist is “questioning +about himself whether he has been as good as he +should have been, and whether a better man would +not have acted otherwise.” No part of us is more +susceptible of morbidness than the moral sense; +none demoralizes more thoroughly when morbid. +The trouble, too, affects chiefly those of the finer +fibre. The majority of healthy children, as has been +said, harden themselves against theoretic talk, and +it passes over them like the wind. Here and there a +sensitive soul absorbs the poison and sets itself seriously +to work installing duty as the mainspring of its +life. We all know the unwholesome result: the person +from whom spontaneity is gone, who criticises +everything he does, who has lost his sense of proportion, +who teases himself endlessly and teases his +friends—so far as they remain his friends—about +the right and wrong of each petty act. It is a disease, +a moral disease, and takes the place in the spiritual +life of that which the doctors are fond of calling +“nervous prostration” in the physical. Few countries +have been so desolated by it as New England. +It is our special scourge. Many here carry a conscience +about with them which makes us say, “How +much better off they would be with none!” I declare, +at times when I see the ravages which conscientiousness +works in our New England stock, I +wish these New Englanders had never heard moral +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +distinctions mentioned. Better their vices than their +virtues. The wise teacher will extirpate the first +sproutings of the weed; for a weed more difficult to +extirpate when grown there is not. We run a serious +risk of implanting it in our children when we undertake +their class instruction in ethics.</p> +<p>Such, then, are some of the considerations which +should give us pause when the public is clamoring +at our schoolhouse doors and saying to us teachers, +“We cannot bring up our children so as to make +them righteous citizens. Undertake the work for +us. You have done so much already that we turn +to you again and entreat your help.” I think we +must sadly reply, “There are limits to what we can +do. If you respect us, you will not urge us to do the +thing that is not ours. By pressing into certain regions +we shall bring upon you more disaster than +benefit.”</p> +<p>Fully, however, as the dangers here pointed out +may be acknowledged, much of a different sort +remains also true. Have we not all received a large +measure of moral culture at school? And are we +quite content to say that the greatest of subjects is +unteachable? I would not say this; on the contrary, +I hold that no college is properly organized where +the teaching of ethics does not occupy a position of +honor. The college, not the school, is the place for +the study. It would be absurd to maintain that all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +other subjects of study are nutritious to man except +that of his own nature; but it is far from absurd to +ask that a young man first possess a nature before +he undertakes to analyze it. A study useless for developing +initial power may still be highly profitable +for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction +in righteousness. Youth should be spontaneous, +instinctive, ebullient; reflection whispers to the +growing man. Many of the evils that I have thus +far traced are brought about by projecting upon a +young mind problems which it has not yet encountered +in itself. Such problems abound in the later +teens and twenties, and then is the time to set about +their discussion.</p> +<p>But even in college I would have ethical study +more guarded than the rest. Had I the power, I +would never allow it to be required of all. It should +be offered only as an elective and in the later years +of the course. When I entered college I was put in +my freshman year into a prescribed study of this +sort. Happily I received no influence from it whatever. +It passed over and left me untouched; and +I think it had no more effect on the majority of my +classmates. Possibly some of the more reflective +took it to heart and were harmed; but in general it +was a mere wasting of precious ointment which might +have soothed our wounds if elected in the senior +year. Of course great teachers defy all rules; and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +under a Hopkins, a Garman, or a Hyde, the distinctions +of elective and prescribed become unimportant. +Yet the principle is clear: wait till the +young man is confronted with the problems before +you invite him to their solution. Has he grown up +unquestioning? Has he accepted the moral code +inherited from honored parents? Can he rest in +wise habits? Then let him be thankful and go his +way untaught. But has he, on the other hand, felt +that the moral mechanism by which he was early +guided does not fit all cases? Has he found one class +of duties in conflict with another? Has he discovered +that the moral standards obtaining in different sections +of society, in different parts of the world, are +irreconcilable? In short, is he puzzled and desirous +of working his way through his puzzles, of facing +them and tracking them to their beginnings? Then +is he ripe for the study of ethics.</p> +<p>Yet when it is so undertaken, when those only +are invited to partake of it who in their own hearts +have heard its painful call, even then I would hedge +it about with two conditions. First, it should be +pursued as a science, critically, and the student +should be informed at the outset that the aim of the +course is knowledge, not the endeavor to make better +men. And, secondly, I would insist that the students +themselves do the work; that they do not passively +listen to opinions set forth by their instructor, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +that they address themselves to research and learn +to <ins title='Was contruct'>construct</ins> moral judgments which will bear critical +inspection. Some teachers, no doubt, will think it +wisest to accomplish these things by tracing the course +of ethics in the past, treating it as a historical science. +Others will prefer, by announcing their own beliefs, +to stimulate their students to criticise those beliefs +and to venture on their own little constructions. The +method is unimportant; it is only of consequence +that the students themselves do the ethicizing, that +they trace the logic of their own beliefs and do not +rest in dogmatic statement. Yet such an undertaking +may well sober a teacher. I never see my +class in ethics come to their first lecture that I do +not tremble and say to myself that I am set for the +downfall of some of them. In every such studious +company there must be unprepared persons whom +the teacher will damage. He cannot help it. He +must move calmly forward, confident in his subject, +but knowing that because it is living it is dangerous.</p> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +<a name='III_MORAL_INSTRUCTION_IN_THE_SCHOOLS' id='III_MORAL_INSTRUCTION_IN_THE_SCHOOLS'></a> +<h3>III +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />MORAL INSTRUCTION IN THE SCHOOLS</span></h3> +</div> +<p>The preceding paper has discussed sufficiently the +negative side of moral education. It has shown how +children should not be approached. But few readers +will be willing to leave the matter here. Are there no +positive measures to be taken? Is there no room in +our schools for any teaching of morality, or must the +most important of subjects be altogether banished +from their doors? There is much which might lead us +to think so. If a teacher may not instruct his pupils +in morality, what other concern with it he should have +is not at once apparent. One may even suspect that +attention to it will distract him from his proper work. +Every human undertaking has some central aim and +succeeds by loyalty to it. Each profession, for example, +singles out one of our many needs and to this +devotes itself whole-heartedly. Such a restriction is +wise. No profession could be strong which attempted +to meet the requirements of man as a whole. The +physician accordingly selects his little aim of extirpating +suffering and disease. His studies, his occupation, +his aptitudes, his hopes of gain, his dignity +as a public character, all have reference to this. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +Whatever is incompatible with it, of however great +worth in itself, is rightly ignored. To save the soul +of a patient may be of larger consequence than to +invigorate his body. But the faithful physician attends +to spiritual matters only so far as he thinks +them conducive to bodily health. Or again the +painter, because he is setting ocular beauty before us, +concerns himself with harmonies of color, balance +of masses, rhythms of line, rather than with history, +anecdote, or incitements to noble living. I once +heard a painter say, “There is religion enough for +me in seeing how half a dozen figures can be made +to go together,” and I honored him for the saying. +So too I should hold that the proper aim of the merchant +is money-making and that only so much of +charity or public usefulness can fairly be demanded +of him as does not conflict with his profits. It is true +that there are large ways and petty ways of acquiring +gain, and one’s own advantage cannot for long be +separated from that of others. Still, the merchant +rightly desists from any course which he finds in +the long run commercially unprofitable.</p> +<p>What, then, is the central aim of teaching? Confessedly +it is the impartation of knowledge. Whatever +furthers this should be eagerly pursued; and all that +hinders it, rejected. When schoolmasters understand +their business it will be useless for the public to +call to them, “We want our children to be patriotic. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +Drop for a time your multiplication table while you +rouse enthusiasm for the old flag.” They would +properly reply, “We are ready to teach American +history. As a part of human knowledge, it belongs +to our province. But though the politicians fail +to stir patriotism, do not put their neglected work +upon us. We have more than we can attend to +already.”</p> +<p>Now in my previous paper I showed how a theoretic +knowledge of good conduct had better not be +given to children. By exposition of holy laws they +are not nourished, but enfeebled. What they need +is right habits, not an understanding of them: to +become good persons rather than to acquire a critical +acquaintance with goodness. What moral function +then remains for the schools? To furnish knowledge +of morality has been proved dangerous. For teachers +to turn away from imparting knowledge and +devote their scanty time to fashioning character is +to abandon work which they alone are fitted to +perform. Yet to let them send forth boys and girls +alert in mind and loose in character is something +which no community will long endure.</p> +<p>Until one has clearly faced these alternative perplexities +he is in no condition to advise about grafting +morality into a school curriculum; for until then +he will be pretty sure to be misled by the popular +notion of morality as a thing apart, demanding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +separate study, a topic like geography or English +literature. But the morality nutritious for school-children +is nothing of this kind. No additional +hour need be provided for its teaching. In teaching +anything, we teach it. A false antithesis was therefore +set up just now when we suggested that a teacher’s +business was to impart knowledge rather than to +fashion character. He cannot do the one without +the other. Let him be altogether true to his scientific +aims and refuse to accommodate them to anything +else; he will be all the better teacher of morality. +Carlyle tells of a carpenter who broke all the ten +commandments with every stroke of his hammer. +A scholar breaks or keeps them with every lesson +learned. So conditioned on morality is the process +of knowing, so inwrought is it in the very structure +of the school, that a school might well be called an +ethical instrument and its daily sessions hours for +the manufacture of character. Only the species of +character manufactured will largely depend on the +teacher’s acquaintance with the instrument he is using. +To increase that acquaintance and give greater +deftness in the use of so exquisite an instrument is +the object of this paper. Once mastered, the tools +of his own trade will be more prized by the earnest +teacher than any additional handbook of ethics.</p> +<p>It will be easiest to point out the kind of moral +instruction a school is fitted to give, if we distinguish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +with somewhat exaggerated sharpness its several +lines of activity. A school is primarily a place of +learning; it is unavoidably a social unit, and it +is incidentally a dependent fellowship. No one of +these aspects is ever absent from it. Each affords +its own opportunity for moral training. The combination +of them gives a school its power. Yet each +is so detachable that it may well become the subject +of independent study.</p> +<p>I. A school is primarily a place of learning, and +to this purpose all else in it is rightfully subordinated. +But learning is itself an act, and one more dependent +than most on moral guidance. It occurs, too, at a +period of life whose chief business is the transformation +of a thing of nature into a spiritual being. +Several stages in this spiritual transformation through +which the process of learning takes us I will point +out.</p> +<p>A school generally gives a child his first acquaintance +with an authoritatively organized world and +reveals his dependence upon it. By nature, impulses +and appetites rule him. A child is charmingly self-centred. +The world and all its ordered goings he +notices merely as ministering to his desires. Nothing +but what he wishes, and wishes just now, is important. +He relates all this but little to the wishes of +other people, to the inherent fixities of things, to his +own future states, to whether one wish is compatible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +with another. His immediate mood is everything. +Of any difference between what is whimsical +or momentary and what is rational or permanent +he is oblivious. To him dreams and fancies are as +substantial as stars, hills, or moving creatures. He +has, in short, no idea of law nor any standards of +reality.</p> +<p>Now it is the first business of instruction to impart +such ideas and standards; but no less is this a +work of moralization. The two accordingly go on +together. Whether we call the chaotic conditions of +nature in which we begin life ignorance or deficient +morality, it is equally the work of education to abolish +them. Both education and morality set themselves +to rationalize the moody, lawless, transient, isolated, +self-assertive, and impatient aspects of things, introducing +the wondering scholar to the inherent +necessities which surround him. “Schoolmasters,” +says George Herbert, “deliver us to laws.” And +probably most of us make our earliest acquaintance +with these impalpable and controlling entities when +we take our places in the school. There our primary +lesson is submission. We are bidden to put +away personal likings and see how in themselves +things really are. Eight times nine does not permit itself +to be seventy-three or sixty-four, but exactly and +forever seventy-two. Cincinnati lies obstinately on +the Ohio, not on the Mississippi, and it is nonsense +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +to speak of Daniel Webster as a President of the +United States. The agreement of verbs and nouns, +the reactions of chemical elements were, it seems, +settled some time before we appeared. They pay +little attention to our humors. We must accept +an already constituted world and adjust our little +self to its august realities. Of course the process is +not completed at school. Begun there, it continues +throughout life; its extent, tenacity, and instantaneous +application marking the degree which we +reach in scientific and moral culture. Let a teacher +attempt to lighten the task of himself or his pupil +by accepting an inexact observation, a slipshod +remembrance, a careless statement, or a distorted +truth, and he will corrupt the child’s character no +less than his intelligence. He confirms the child’s +habit of intruding himself into reality and of remaining +listless when ordained facts are calling. Education +may well be defined as the banishment of +moods at the bidding of the permanently real.</p> +<p>But to acquire such obedient alertness persistence +is necessary, and in gaining it a child wins a second +victory over disorderly nature. By this he becomes +acquainted not merely with an outer world, but with +a still stranger object, himself. I have spoken already +of the eagerness of young desires. They are +blind and disruptive things. One of them pays small +heed to another, but each blocks the other’s way, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +preventing anything like a coherent and united life. +A child is notoriously a creature of the moment, +looking little before and after. He must be taught to +do so before he can know anything or be anybody. +A school matures him by connecting his doings of +to-day with those of to-morrow. Here he begins +to estimate the worth of the present by noticing +what it contributes to an organic plan. Each +hour of study brings precious discipline in preferring +what is distantly important to what is momentarily +agreeable. A personal being, in some degree +emancipated from time, consequently emerges, and +a selfhood appears, built up through enduring +interests. The whole process is in the teacher’s +charge. It is his to enforce diligence and so to +assist the vague little life to knit itself solidly together.</p> +<p>Nor should it be forgotten that to become each +day the possessor of increasing stores of novel and +interesting truths normally brings dignity and pleasure. +This honorable delight reacts, too, on the process +of learning, quickening its pace, sharpening its +observation, and confirming its persistence. It is +of no less importance for the character, to which it +imparts ease, courage, beauty, and resourcefulness. +But on the teacher it will depend whether such +pleasure is found. A teacher who has entered deeply +into his subject, and is not afraid of allowing enthusiasm +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +to appear, will make the densest subject +and the densest pupil glow; while a dull teacher can +in a few minutes strip the most engrossing subject +of interest and make the diligence exacted in its +pursuit deadening. It is dangerous to dissociate +toil and delight. The school is the place to initiate +their genial union. Whoever learns there to love +knowledge, will be pretty secure of becoming an +educated and useful man and of finding satisfaction +in whatever employment may afterwards be his.</p> +<p>One more contribution to character which comes +from the school as a place of learning I will mention: +it should create a sense of freedom. Without this +both learning and the learner are distorted. It is +not enough that the child become submissive to an +already constituted world, obedient to its authoritative +organization; not enough that he find pleasure +in it, or even discover himself emerging, as one +day’s diligence is bound up with that of another. All +these influences may easily make him think of himself +as a passive creature, and consequently leave him +half formed. There is something more. Rightly +does the Psalmist call the fear of the Lord the beginning +of wisdom rather than its end; for that +education is defective which fashions a docile and +slavish learner. As the child introduces order into +his previously capricious acts, thoughts, and feelings, +he should feel in himself a power of control unknown +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +before, and be encouraged to find an honorable +use for his very peculiarities. He should be brought +to see that the world is unfinished and needs his +joyful coöperation, that it has room for individual +activity and admits rationally constructed purposes. +From his earliest years a child should be encouraged +to criticise, to have preferences, and to busy himself +with imaginative constructions; for all this development +of orderly freedom and of rejoicing in its exercise +is building up at once both knowledge and character.</p> +<p>II. Yet a school becomes an ethical instrument +not merely through being a place of learning but because +it is also a social unit. It is a coöperative group, +or company of persons pledged every instant to consider +one another, their common purpose being jarred +by the obtrusion of any one’s dissenting will. Accordingly +much that is proper elsewhere becomes +improper here. As soon as a child enters a schoolroom +he is impressed by the unaccustomed silence. +A happy idea springs in his mind and clamors for +the same outgo it would have at home, but it is +restrained in deference to the assembled company. +In crossing the room he is taught to tread lightly, +though for himself a joyous dash might be agreeable; +but might it not distract the attention of those who +are studying? The school begins at nine o’clock and +each recitation at its fixed hour, these times being +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +no better than others except as facilitating common +corporate action. To this each one’s private ways +become adjusted. The subordination of each to all +is written large on every arrangement of school life; +and it needs must be so if there is to be moral advance. +For morality itself is nothing but the acceptance +of such habits as express the helpful relations +of society and the individual. Punctuality, order, +quiet, are signs that the child’s life is beginning to +be socialized. A teacher who fails to impress their +elementary righteousness on his pupils brutalizes +every child in his charge.</p> +<p>Such relations between the social whole and the +part assume a variety of forms, and the school is the +best place for introducing a child to their niceties. +Those other persons whom a schoolboy is called on +continually to regard may be either his superiors, +equals, or inferiors. To each we have specific duties, +expressed in an appropriate type of manners. Our +teachers are above us,—above us in age, experience, +wisdom, and authority. To treat them as comrades +is unseemly. Confession of their superiority +colors all our approaches. They are to be listened to +as others are not. Their will has the right of way. +Our bearing toward them, however trustful or even +affectionate, shows a respectfulness somewhat removed +from familiarity. On the other hand schoolmates +are comrades, at least those of the same sex, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +class, strength, and intelligence. Among them we +assert ourselves freely, yet with constant care to secure +no less freedom for them, and we guard them +against any damage or annoyance which our hasty +assertiveness might cause. In case of clash between +their interest and our own, ours is withdrawn. And +then toward those who are below us, either in rank +or powers, helpfulness springs forth. We are eager +to bridge over the separating chasm and by our will +to abolish hindering defects. These three types of +personal adjustment—respect, courtesy, and helpfulness, +with their wide variety of combination—form +the groundwork of all good manners. In their +beginnings they need prompting and oversight from +some one who is already mature. A school which +neglects to cultivate them works almost irreparable +injury to its pupils. For if these possibilities of refined +human intercourse are not opened in the school +years, it is with great difficulty they are arrived at +afterwards.</p> +<p>The spiritualizing influence of the school as a +social unit is, however, not confined to the classroom. +It is quite as active on the playground. There a +boy learns to play fair, accustoms himself to that +greatest of social ties, <i>l’esprit du corps</i>. Throughout +life a man needs continually to merge his own interests +in those of a group. He must act as the father +of a family, an operative in a factory, a voter of Boston, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +an American citizen, a member of an engine company, +union, church, or business firm. His own small +concerns are taken up into these larger ones, and +devotion to them is not felt as self-sacrifice. A preparation +for such moral ennoblement is laid in the +sports of childhood. What does a member of the +football team care for battered shins or earth-scraped +hands? His side has won, and his own gains and +losses are forgotten. Soon his team goes forth against +an outside team, and now the honor of the whole +school is in his keeping. What pride is his! As he +puts on his uniform, he strips off his isolated personality +and stands forth as the trusted champion of an +institution. Nor does this august supersession of the +private consciousness by the public arise in connection +with sports alone. As a member of the school, +a boy acts differently from what he otherwise would. +There is a standard of conduct recognized as suitable +for a Washington School boy, and from it his own +does not widely depart. For good or for ill each +school has its ideals of “good form” which are +compulsive over its members and are handed on +from class to class. To assist in moulding, refining, +and maintaining these is the weightiest work of a +schoolmaster. For these ideals have about them the +sacredness of what is traditional, institutional, and +are of an unseen, august, and penetrative power, +comparable to nothing else in character-formation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +To modify them ever so slightly a teacher should +be content to work for years.</p> +<p>III. A third aspect of the school I have called its +character as a Dependent Fellowship, and I have +said that this is merely incidental. A highly important +incident it is, however, and one that never fails to +recur. What I would indicate by the dark phrase is +this: in every school an imperfect life is associated +with one similar but more advanced, one from which +it perpetually receives influences that are not official +nor measurable in money payment. A teacher +is hired primarily to teach, and with a view also to +his ability to keep order throughout his little society +and to make his authority respected there. But side +by side with these public duties runs the expression +of his personality. This is his own, something which +he hides or discloses at his pleasure. To his pupils, +however, he must always appear in the threefold +character of teacher, master, and developed human +being; while they correspondingly present themselves +to him as pupils, members of the school, and +elementary human beings. Of these pairs of relationships +two are contrasted and supplemental,—teacher +and pupil, master and scholar, having nothing +in common, each being precisely what the +other is not. As human beings, however, pupil and +teacher are akin and removed from one another +merely by the degree of progress made by the elder +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +along a common path. Here then the relation is one +of fellowship, but a fellowship where the younger +is largely dependent on the older for an understanding +of what he should be. By example, friendship, +and personal influence a teacher is certain to affect +for good or ill every member of his school. In +any account of the school as an ethical instrument +this subtlest of its moral agencies deserves careful +analysis.</p> +<p>There are different sorts of example. I may observe +how the shopman does up a package, and do +one so myself the next morning. A companion may +have a special inflection of voice, which I may catch. +I may be drawn to industry by seeing how steadily +my classmate studies. I may adopt a phrase, a smile, +or a polite gesture, which was originally my teacher’s. +All these are cases of direct imitation. Some one +possesses a trait or an act which is passed over entire +to another person, by whom it is substituted for one +of his own. Though the adoption of such alien ways +is dangerous, society could hardly go on without it. +It is its mode of transmitting what is supposed to be +already tested and of lodging it in the lives of persons +of less experience, with the least cost to the receivers. +Most teachers will have habits which their +pupils may advantageously copy. Yet supposing the +imitated ways altogether good, which they seldom +are, direct imitation is questionable as disregarding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +the particular character of him in whom the ways +are found and in assuming that they will be equally +appropriate if engrafted on anybody. But this is +far from true, and consequently he who imitates +much is, or soon will be, a weakling. On the whole, +a teacher needs to guard his pupils against his imitable +peculiarities. If sensible, he will snub whoever +is disposed to repeat them.</p> +<p>Still, there is a noble sort of imitation, and that +school is a poor place where it does not go on. Certain +persons have a strange power of invigorating +us by their presence. When with them, we can do +what seems impossible alone. They are our examples +rather as wholes, and in their strength and spirit, than +in their single traits or acts; and so whatever is most +distinctive of ourselves becomes renewed through contact +with them. It was said of the late Dr. Jowett +that he sent out more pupils who were widely unlike +himself than any Oxford teacher of his time. +That is enviable praise; for the wholesomeness of +example is tested by inquiring whether it develops +differences or has only the power of duplicating the +original. Every teacher knows how easy it is to send +out cheap editions of himself, and in his weaker +moments he inclines to issue them. But it is ignoble +business. Our manners and tones and phrases and +the ways we have of doing this and that are after all +valuable only as expressions of ourselves. For anybody +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +else they are rubbish. What we should like to +impart is that earnestness, accuracy, unselfishness, +candor, reverence for God’s laws, and sturdiness +through hardship, toward which we aspire—matters +in reality only half ours and which spring up +with fresh and original beauty in every soul where +they once take root. The Dependent Fellowship +of a school makes these larger, enkindling, and diversifying +influences peculiarly possible. It should +be a teacher’s highest ambition to exercise them. +And though we might naturally expect that such +inspiring teachers would be rare, I seldom enter a +school without finding indications of the presence of +at least one of them.</p> +<p>But for those who would acquire this larger influence +a strange caution is necessary: Examples +do not work that are not real. We sometimes try +to “set an example,” that is, to put on a type of character +for the benefit of a beholder; and are usually +disappointed. Personal influence is not an affair of +acting, but of being. Those about us are strangely +affected by what we veritably are, only slightly by +what we would have them see. If we are indisposed +to study, yet, knowing that industry is good for our +scholars, assume a bustling diligence, they are more +likely to feel the real portion of the affair, our laziness, +than the activity which was designed for their +copying. Astonishingly shrewd are the young at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +scenting humbug and being unaffected by its pretensions. +There is consequently no method to be +learned for gaining personal influence. Almost everything +else requires plan and effort. This precious +power needs little attention. It will not come in one +way better than another. A fair measure of sympathetic +tact is useful for starting it; but in the long +run persons rude and suave, talkative and silent, +handsome and ugly, stalwart and slight, possess it +in about equal degree, the very characteristics which +we should be disposed to count disadvantageous +often seeming to confirm its hold. Since it generally +comes about that our individual interests become +in some measure those of our pupils too, +the only safe rule for personal influence is to go +heartily about our own affairs, with a friendly spirit, +and let our usual nature have whatever effect it +may.</p> +<p>Still, there is one important mode of preparation: +seeing that personal influence springs from what +we are, we can really be a good deal. In a former +paper, on The Ideal Teacher, I pointed this out +and insisted that to be of any use in the classroom +we teachers must bring there an already accumulated +wealth. I will not repeat what I have said already, +for a little reflection will convince any one +that when he lacks personal influence he lacks much +besides. A great example comes from a great nature, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +and we who live in fellowship with dependent and +imitative youth should acquire natures large enough +to serve both their needs and our own. Let teachers +be big, bounteous, and unconventional, and they +will have few backward pupils.</p> +<p>Personal influence is often assumed to be greater +the closer the intimacy. I believe the contrary to +be the case. Familiarity, says the shrewd proverb, +breeds contempt. And certainly the young, who are +little trained in estimating values, when brought +into close association with their elders are apt to fix +their attention on petty points and so to miss the +larger lines of character. These they see best across +an interval where, though visible only in outline, +they are clear, unconfused with anything else, and +so productive of their best effect. For the immature, +distance is a considerable help in inducing enchantment, +and nothing is so destructive of high influence +as a slap-on-the-back acquaintance. One who is to +help us much must be above us. A teacher should +carefully respect his own dignity and no less carefully +that of his pupil. In our eagerness to help, we may +easily cheapen a fine nature by intruding too frequently +into its reserves; and on the other hand I have +observed that the boy who comes oftenest for advice +is he who profits by it least. It is safest not to meddle +much with the insides of our pupils. An occasional +weighty word is more compulsive than frequent talk.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></div> +<p>Within the limits then here marked out we who +live in these Dependent Fellowships must submit to +be admired. We must allow our pupils to idealize +us and even offer ourselves for imitation. It is not +pleasant. Usually nobody knows his weaknesses +better than the one who is mistaken for an example. +But what a helpful mistake! What ennobling influences +come to schoolboys when once they can think +their teacher is the sort of person they would like to +be! Perhaps at the very moment that teacher is thinking +they are the sort of person he would like to be. +No matter. What they admire is worthy, even if not +embodied precisely where they imagine. In humility +we accept their admiration, knowing that nothing +else can so enlarge their lives. As I recall my college +days, there rise before me two teachers. As I entered +the lecture rooms of those two men, I said to +myself, “Oh, if some day I could be like that!” And +always afterwards as I went to those respective +rooms, the impression of dignity deepened. I have +forgotten the lessons I learned from those instructors. +I never can discharge my debt to the instructors +themselves.</p> +<p>Such are the moral resources of our schools. +Without turning aside in the slightest from their +proper aim of imparting knowledge, teachers are +able,—almost compelled—to supply their pupils +with an intellectual, social, and personal righteousness. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +What more is wanted? When such opportunities +for moral instruction are already within their +grasp, is it worth while to incur the grave dangers of +ethical instruction too? I think not, and I even fear +that the establishment of courses in moral theory +might weaken the sense of responsibility among the +other teachers and lead them to attach less importance +to the moralization of their pupils by themselves. +This is burdensome business, no doubt, but +we must not shift it to a single pair of shoulders. +Rather let us insist, when bad boys and girls continue +in a school, that the blame belongs to the teachers +as a whole, and not to some ethical coach. It is +from the management and temper of a school that its +formative influence proceeds. We cannot safely turn +over anything so all-pervading to the instructors of +a single department. That school where neatness, +courtesy, simplicity, obtain; where enthusiasm goes +with mental exactitude, thoroughness of work with +interest, and absence of artificiality with refinement; +where sneaks, liars, loafers, pretenders, rough persons +are despised, while teachers who refuse to be +mechanical hold sway—that school is engaged in +moral training all day long.</p> +<p>Yet while I hold that the systematic study of +ethics had on the whole better be left to the colleges, +I confess that the line which I have attempted to +draw between consciousness and unconsciousness, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +between the age which is best directed by instinct +and the age when the questioning faculties put forward +their inexorable demands, is a wavering one and +cannot be sharply drawn. By one child it is crossed +at one period, by another at another. Seldom is the +crossing noticed. Before we are aware we find ourselves +in sorrow on the farther side. Happy the youth +who during the transition time has a wise friend at +hand to answer a question, to speak a steadying +word, to open up the vista which at the moment +needs to be cleared. Only one in close personal touch +is serviceable here. But in defect of home guidance, +to us teachers falls much of the charge of developing +the youthful consciousness of moral matters naturally, +smoothly, and without jar. This has always been a +part of the teacher’s office. So far as I can ascertain +schools of the olden time had in them a large amount +of wholesome ethical training. Schools were unsystematic +then; there lay no examination paper ahead +of them; there was time for pause and talk. If a +subject arose which the teacher deemed important +for his pupils’ personal lives, he could lead them +on to question about it, so far as he believed discussion +useful. This sort of ethical training the +hurry of our time has largely exterminated; and +now that wholesome incidental instruction is gone, +we demand in the modern way that a clear-cut department +of ethics be introduced into the curriculum. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +But such things do not let themselves be +treated in departmental fashion. The teacher must +still work as a friend. He cannot be discharged +from knowing when and how to stimulate a question, +from discerning which boy or girl would +be helped by consciousness and which would be +harmed. In these high regions our pupils cannot +be approached in classes. They require individual +attention. And not because we are teachers merely, +but because we and they are human beings, we +must be ready with spiritual aid.</p> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +<a name='IV_SELFCULTIVATION_IN_ENGLISH' id='IV_SELFCULTIVATION_IN_ENGLISH'></a> +<h3>IV +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />SELF-CULTIVATION IN ENGLISH</span></h3> +</div> +<p>English study has four aims: the mastery of our +language as a science, as a history, as a joy, and as +a tool. I am concerned with but one, the mastery of +it as a tool. Philology and grammar present it as a +science; the one attempting to follow its words, the +other its sentences, through all the intricacies of their +growth, and so to manifest laws which lie hidden in +these airy products no less than in the moving stars +or the myriad flowers of spring. Fascinating and important +as all this is, I do not recommend it here. +For I want to call attention only to that sort of English +study which can be carried on without any large +apparatus of books. For a reason similar, though +less cogent, I do not urge historical study. Probably +the current of English literature is more attractive +through its continuity than that of any other nation. +Notable works in verse and prose have appeared in +long succession, and without gaps intervening, in a +way that would be hard to parallel in any other language +known to man. A bounteous endowment this +for every English speaker, and one which should +stimulate us to trace the marvellous and close-linked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +progress from the times of the Saxons to those of +Tennyson and Kipling. Literature too has this advantage +over every other species of art study, that +everybody can examine the original masterpieces +and not depend on reproductions, as in the cases of +painting, sculpture, and architecture; or on intermediate +interpretation, as in the case of music. To-day +most of these masterpieces can be bought for a trifle, +and even a poor man can follow through centuries the +thoughts of his ancestors. But even so, ready of access +as it is, English can be studied as a history only +at the cost of solid time and continuous attention, +much more time than the majority of those for whom +I am writing can afford. By most of us our mighty +literature cannot be taken in its continuous current, +the later stretches proving interesting through relation +with the earlier. It must be taken fragmentarily, if +at all, the attention delaying on those parts only which +offer the greatest beauty or promise the best exhilaration. +In other words, English may be possible as a +joy where it is not possible as a history. In the endless +wealth which our poetry, story, essay, and drama +afford, every disposition may find its appropriate nutriment, +correction, or solace. He is unwise, however +busy, who does not have his loved authors, veritable +friends with whom he takes refuge in the intervals +of work and by whose intimacy he enlarges, refines, +sweetens, and emboldens his own limited existence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +Yet the fact that English as a joy must largely be conditioned +by individual taste prevents me from offering +general rules for its pursuit. The road which leads +one man straight to this joy leads another to tedium. +In all literary enjoyment there is something incalculable, +something wayward, eluding the precision of +rule, and rendering inexact the precepts of him who +would point out the path to it. While I believe that +many suggestions may be made, useful to the young +enjoyer and promotive of his wise vagrancy, I shall +not undertake here the complicated task of offering +them. Let enjoyment go, let history go, let science +go, and still English remains—English as a tool. +Every hour our language is an engine for communicating +with others, every instant for fashioning the +thoughts of our own minds. I want to call attention +to the means of mastering this curious and essential +tool, and to lead every one who reads me to become +discontented with his employment of it.</p> +<p>The importance of literary power needs no long +argument. Everybody acknowledges it, and sees that +without it all other human faculties are maimed. +Shakespeare says that death-bringing time “insults +o’er dull and speechless tribes.” It and all who live in +it insult over the speechless person. So mutually dependent +are we that on our swift and full communication +with one another is staked the success of almost +every scheme we form. He who can explain himself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +may command what he wants. He who cannot is left +to the poverty of individual resource; for men do what +we desire only when persuaded. The persuasive and +explanatory tongue is, therefore, one of the chief +levers of life. Its leverage is felt within us as well as +without, for expression and thought are integrally +bound together. We do not first possess completed +thoughts and then express them. The very formation +of the outward product extends, sharpens, enriches +the mind which produces, so that he who gives +forth little after a time is likely enough to discover +that he has little to give forth. By expression too we +may carry our benefits and our names to a far generation. +This durable character of fragile language +puts a wide difference of worth between it and some +of the other great objects of desire,—health, wealth, +and beauty, for example. These are notoriously liable +to accident. We tremble while we have them. But +literary power, once ours, is more likely than any +other possession to be ours always. It perpetuates +and enlarges itself by the very fact of its existence +and perishes only with the decay of the man himself. +For this reason, because more than health, wealth, +and beauty, literary style may be called the man, good +judges have found in it the final test of culture and +have said that he, and he alone, is a well-educated person +who uses his language with power and beauty. +The supreme and ultimate product of civilization, it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +has well been said, is two or three persons talking +together in a room. Between ourselves and our language +there accordingly springs up an association +peculiarly close. We are as sensitive to criticism +of our speech as of our manners. The young man +looks up with awe to him who has written a book, as +already half divine; and the graceful speaker is a +universal object of envy.</p> +<p>But the very fact that literary endowment is immediately +recognized and eagerly envied has induced +a strange illusion in regard to it. It is supposed to +be something mysterious, innate in him who possesses +it and quite out of the reach of him who has it +not. The very contrary is the fact. No human employment +is more free and calculable than the winning +of language. Undoubtedly there are natural +aptitudes for it, as there are for farming, seamanship, +or being a good husband. But nowhere is +straight work more effective. Persistence, care, discriminating +observation, ingenuity, refusal to lose +heart,—traits which in every other occupation tend +toward excellence,—tend toward it here with special +security. Whoever goes to his grave with bad English +in his mouth has no one to blame but himself for +the disagreeable taste; for if faulty speech can be inherited, +it can be exterminated too. I hope to point +out some of the methods of substituting good English +for bad. And since my space is brief, and I wish to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +be remembered, I throw what I have to say into the +form of four simple precepts which, if pertinaciously +obeyed, will, I believe, give anybody effective mastery +of English as a tool.</p> +<p>First then, “Look well to your speech.” It is +commonly supposed that when a man seeks literary +power he goes to his room and plans an article for +the press. But this is to begin literary culture at +the wrong end. We speak a hundred times for every +once we write. The busiest writer produces little +more than a volume a year, not so much as his talk +would amount to in a week. Consequently through +speech it is usually decided whether a man is to have +command of his language or not. If he is slovenly +in his ninety-nine cases of talking, he can seldom +pull himself up to strength and exactitude in the +hundredth case of writing. A person is made in one +piece, and the same being runs through a multitude +of performances. Whether words are uttered on +paper or to the air, the effect on the utterer is the +same. Vigor or feebleness results according as energy +or slackness has been in command. I know that +certain adaptations to a new field are often necessary. +A good speaker may find awkwardnesses in himself +when he comes to write, a good writer when he +speaks. And certainly cases occur where a man exhibits +distinct strength in one of the two, speaking +or writing, and not in the other. But such cases are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +rare. As a rule, language once within our control +can be employed for oral or for written purposes. +And since the opportunities for oral practice enormously +outbalance those for written, it is the oral +which are chiefly significant in the development of +literary power. We rightly say of the accomplished +writer that he shows a mastery of his own tongue.</p> +<p>This predominant influence of speech marks nearly +all great epochs of literature. The Homeric poems +are addressed to the ear, not to the eye. It is doubtful +if Homer knew writing, certain that he knew +profoundly every quality of the tongue,—veracity, +vividness, shortness of sentence, simplicity of thought, +obligation to insure swift apprehension. Writing and +rigidity are apt to go together. In Homer’s smooth-slipping +verses one catches everywhere the voice. So +too the aphorisms of Hesiod might naturally pass +from mouth to mouth, and the stories of Herodotus +be told by an old man at the fireside. Early Greek literature +is plastic and garrulous. Its distinctive glory +is that it contains no literary note; that it gives forth +human feeling not in conventional arrangement, but +with apparent spontaneity—in short, that it is speech +literature, not book literature. And the same tendency +continued long among the Greeks. At the culmination +of their power the drama was their chief +literary form,—the drama, which is but speech ennobled, +connected, clarified. Plato too, following the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +dramatic precedent and the precedent of his talking +master, accepted conversation as his medium for philosophy +and imparted to it the vivacity, ease, waywardness +even, which the best conversation exhibits. +Nor was the experience of the Greeks peculiar. Our +literature shows a similar tendency. Its bookish times +are its decadent times, its talking times its glory. +Chaucer, like Herodotus, is a story-teller, and follows +the lead of those who on the Continent entertained +courtly circles with pleasant tales. Shakespeare and +his fellows in the spacious times of great Elizabeth +did not concern themselves with publication. Marston +in one of his prefaces thinks it necessary to +apologize for putting his piece in print, and says he +would not have done such a thing if unscrupulous +persons, hearing the play at the theatre, had not +already printed corrupt versions of it. Even the +Queen Anne’s men, far removed though they are +from anything dramatic, still shape their ideals of +literature by demands of speech. The essays of the +Spectator, the poems of Pope, are the remarks of +a cultivated gentleman at an evening party. Here +is the brevity, the good taste, the light touch, the +neat epigram, the avoidance of whatever might stir +passion, controversy, or laborious thought, which +characterize the conversation of a well-bred man. Indeed +it is hard to see how any literature can be long +vital which is based on the thought of a book and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +not on that of living utterance. Unless the speech +notion is uppermost, words will not run swiftly to +their mark. They delay in delicate phrasings while +naturalness and a sense of reality disappear. Women +are the best talkers. I sometimes please myself with +noticing that three of the greatest periods of English +literature coincide with the reigns of the three English +queens.</p> +<p>Fortunate it is, then, that self-cultivation in the +use of English must chiefly come through speech; because +we are always speaking, whatever else we do. +In opportunities for acquiring a mastery of language +the poorest and busiest are at no large disadvantage +as compared with the leisured rich. It is true the +strong impulse which comes from the suggestion and +approval of society may in some cases be absent, but +this can be compensated by the sturdy purpose of the +learner. A recognition of the beauty of well-ordered +words, a strong desire, patience under discouragements, +and promptness in counting every occasion +as of consequence,—these are the simple agencies +which sweep one on to power. Watch your speech +then. That is all which is needed. Only it is desirable +to know what qualities of speech to watch for. +I find three,—accuracy, audacity, and range,—and +I will say a few words about each.</p> +<p>Obviously, good English is exact English. Our +words should fit our thoughts like a glove and be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +neither too wide nor too tight. If too wide, they will +include much vacuity beside the intended matter. If +too tight, they will check the strong grasp. Of the +two dangers, looseness is by far the greater. There +are people who say what they mean with such a naked +precision that nobody not familiar with the subject +can quickly catch the sense. George Herbert and +Emerson strain the attention of many. But niggardly +and angular speakers are rare. Too frequently words +signify nothing in particular. They are merely thrown +out in a certain direction to report a vague and undetermined +meaning or even a general emotion. The +first business of every one who would train himself +in language is to articulate his thought, to know definitely +what he wishes to say, and then to pick those +words which compel the hearer to think of this and +only this. For such a purpose two words are often +better than three. The fewer the words, the more +pungent the impression. Brevity is the soul, not +simply of a jest, but of wit in its finer sense where +it is identical with wisdom. He who can put a great +deal into a little is the master. Since firm texture is +what is wanted, not embroidery or superposed ornament, +beauty has been well defined as the purgation +of superfluities. And certainly many a paragraph +might have its beauty brightened by letting quiet +words take the place of its loud words, omitting its +“verys,” and striking out its purple patches of fine +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +writing. Here is Ben Jonson’s description of Bacon’s +language: “There happened in my time one noble +speaker who was full of gravity in his speech. No +man ever spoke more neatly, more pressly, more +weightily, or suffered less emptiness, less idleness, in +what he uttered. No member of his speech but consisted +of his own graces. His hearers could not cough +or look aside without loss. He commanded when he +spoke, and had his judges angry or pleased at his discretion.” +Such are the men who command, men who +speak “neatly and pressly.” But to gain such precision +is toilsome business. While we are in training +for it, no word must unpermittedly pass the portal of +the teeth. Something like what we mean must never +be counted equivalent to what we mean. And if we +are not sure of our meaning or of our word, we must +pause until we are sure. Accuracy does not come of +itself. For persons who can use several languages, +capital practice in acquiring it can be had by translating +from one language to another and seeing that +the entire sense is carried over. Those who have +only their native speech will find it profitable often +to attempt definitions of the common words they use. +Inaccuracy will not stand up against the habit of definition. +Dante boasted that no rhythmic exigency +had ever made him say what he did not mean. We +heedless and unintending speakers, under no exigency +of rhyme or reason, say what we mean but seldom, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +and still more seldom mean what we say. To hold +our thoughts and words in significant adjustment requires +unceasing consciousness, a perpetual determination +not to tell lies; for of course every inaccuracy +is a bit of untruthfulness. We have something in +mind, yet convey something else to our hearer. And +no moral purpose will save us from this untruthfulness +unless that purpose is sufficient to inspire the +daily drill which brings the power to be true. Again +and again we are shut up to evil because we have not +acquired the ability of goodness.</p> +<p>But after all, I hope that nobody who hears me +will quite agree. There is something enervating in +conscious care. Necessary as it is in shaping our purposes, +if allowed too direct and exclusive control consciousness +breeds hesitation and feebleness. Action +is not excellent, at least, until spontaneous. In piano-playing +we begin by picking out each separate note; +but we do not call the result music until we play our +notes by the handful, heedless how each is formed. +And so it is everywhere. Consciously selective conduct +is elementary and inferior. People distrust it, or +rather they distrust him who exhibits it. If anybody +talking to us visibly studies his words, we turn away. +What he says may be well enough as school exercise, +but it is not conversation. Accordingly, if we would +have our speech forcible, we shall need to put into it +quite as much of audacity as we do of precision, terseness, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +or simplicity. Accuracy alone is not a thing to +be sought, but accuracy and dash. It was said of +Fox, the English orator and statesman, that he was +accustomed to throw himself headlong into the middle +of a sentence, trusting to God Almighty to get him +out. So must we speak. We must not before beginning +a sentence decide what the end shall be; for if we +do, nobody will care to hear that end. At the beginning, +it is the beginning which claims the attention +of both speaker and listener, and trepidation about +going on will mar all. We must give our thought its +head, and not drive it with too tight a rein, nor grow +timid when it begins to prance a bit. Of course we +must retain coolness in courage, applying the results +of our previous discipline in accuracy; but we need +not move so slowly as to become formal. Pedantry +is worse than blundering. If we care for grace and +flexible beauty of language, we must learn to let our +thought run. Would it, then, be too much of an Irish +bull to say that in acquiring English we need to cultivate +spontaneity? The uncultivated kind is not +worth much; it is wild and haphazard stuff, unadjusted +to its uses. On the other hand no speech is of +much account, however just, which lacks the element +of courage. Accuracy and dash, then, the combination +of the two, must be our difficult aim; and we +must not rest satisfied so long as either dwells with +us alone.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></div> +<p>But are the two so hostile as they at first appear? +Or can, indeed, the first be obtained without the aid +of the second? Supposing we are convinced that +words possess no value in themselves, and are correct +or incorrect only as they truly report experience, we +shall feel ourselves impelled in the mere interest of +accuracy to choose them freshly and to put them together +in ways in which they never coöperated before, +so as to set forth with distinctness that which just +we, not other people, have seen or felt. The reason +why we do not naturally have this daring exactitude +is probably twofold. We let our experiences be +blurred, not observing sharply, nor knowing with any +minuteness what we are thinking about; and so there +is no individuality in our language. And then, besides, +we are terrorized by custom and inclined to +adjust what we would say to what others have said +before. The cure for the first of these troubles is to +keep our eye on our object, instead of on our listener +or ourselves; and for the second, to learn to rate the +expressiveness of language more highly than its correctness. +The opposite of this, the disposition to +set correctness above expressiveness, produces that +peculiarly vulgar diction known as “school-ma’am +English,” in which for the sake of a dull accord with +usage all the picturesque, imaginative and forceful +employment of words is sacrificed. Of course we +must use words so that people can understand them, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +and understand them too with ease; but this once +granted, let our language be our own, obedient to our +special needs. “Whenever,” says Thomas Jefferson, +“by small grammatical negligences the energy of an +idea can be condensed, or a word be made to stand +for a sentence, I hold grammatical rigor in contempt.” +“Young man,” said Henry Ward Beecher to one who +was pointing out grammatical errors in a sermon of +his, “when the English language gets in my way, it +doesn’t stand a chance.” No man can be convincing, +writer or speaker, who is afraid to send his words +wherever they may best follow his meaning, and this +with but little regard to whether any other person’s +words have ever been there before. In assessing +merit let us not stupefy ourselves with using negative +standards. What stamps a man as great is not +freedom from faults, but abundance of powers.</p> +<p>Such audacious accuracy, however, distinguishing +as it does noble speech from commonplace speech, +can be practised only by him who has a wide range +of words. Our ordinary range is absurdly narrow. +It is important, therefore, for anybody who would +cultivate himself in English to make strenuous and +systematic efforts to enlarge his vocabulary. Our +dictionaries contain more than a hundred thousand +words. The average speaker employs about three +thousand. Is this because ordinary people have only +three or four thousand things to say? Not at all. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +It is simply due to dulness. Listen to the average +schoolboy. He has a dozen or two nouns, half a +dozen verbs, three or four adjectives, and enough +conjunctions and prepositions to stick the conglomerate +together. This ordinary speech deserves the +description which Hobbes gave to his “State of Nature,” +that “it is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and +short.” The fact is, we fall into the way of thinking +that the wealthy words are for others and that they +do not belong to us. We are like those who have +received a vast inheritance, but who persist in the +inconveniences of hard beds, scanty food, rude clothing, +who never travel, and who limit their purchases +to the bleak necessities of life. Ask such people +why they endure niggardly living while wealth in +plenty is lying in the bank, and they can only answer +that they have never learned how to spend. But +this is worth learning. Milton used eight thousand +words, Shakespeare fifteen thousand. We have all +the subjects to talk about that these early speakers +had; and in addition we have bicycles and sciences +and strikes and political combinations and all the +complicated living of the modern world.</p> +<p>Why then do we hesitate to swell our words to +meet our needs? It is a nonsense question. There +is no reason. We are simply lazy, too lazy to make +ourselves comfortable. We let our vocabularies be +limited and get along rawly without the refinements +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +of human intercourse, without refinements in our own +thoughts; for thoughts are almost as dependent +on words as words on thoughts. For example, all +exasperations we lump together as “aggravating,” +not considering whether they may not rather be displeasing, +annoying, offensive, disgusting, irritating, +or even maddening; and without observing too that +in our reckless usage we have burned up a word +which might be convenient when we should need to +mark some shading of the word “increase.” Like +the bad cook, we seize the frying-pan whenever we +need to fry, broil, roast, or stew, and then we wonder +why all our dishes taste alike while in the next +house the food is appetizing. It is all unnecessary. +Enlarge the vocabulary. Let any one who wants to +see himself grow resolve to adopt two new words +each week. It will not be long before the endless +and enchanting variety of the world will begin to reflect +itself in his speech, and in his mind as well. I +know that when we use a word for the first time we +are startled, as if a fire-cracker went off in our neighborhood. +We look about hastily to see if any one +has noticed. But finding that no one has, we may be +emboldened. A word used three times slips off the +tongue with entire naturalness. Then it is ours forever, +and with it some phase of life which had been +lacking hitherto. For each word presents its own +point of view, discloses a special aspect of things, reports +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +some little importance not otherwise conveyed, +and so contributes its small emancipation to our +tied-up minds and tongues.</p> +<p>But a brief warning may be necessary to make my +meaning clear. In urging the addition of new words +to our present poverty-stricken stock I am far from +suggesting that we should seek out strange, technical +or inflated expressions, which do not appear in ordinary +conversation. The very opposite is my aim. +I would put every man who is now employing a diction +merely local and personal in command of the +approved resources of the English language. Our +poverty usually comes through provinciality, through +accepting without criticism the habits of our special +set. My family, my immediate friends, have a diction +of their own. Plenty of other words, recognized +as sound, are known to be current in books and to be +employed by modest and intelligent speakers, only we +do not use them. Our set has never said “diction,” +or “current,” or “scope,” or “scanty,” or “hitherto,” +or “convey,” or “lack.” Far from unusual as these +words are, to adopt them might seem to set me apart +from those whose intellectual habits I share. From +this I shrink. I do not like to wear clothes suitable +enough for others, but not in the style of my own +plain circle. Yet if each one of that circle does the +same, the general shabbiness is increased. The talk +of all is made narrow enough to fit the thinnest there. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +What we should seek is to contribute to each of the +little companies with which our life is bound up a +gently enlarging influence, such impulses as will not +startle or create detachment, but which may save from +humdrum, routine and dreary usualness. We cannot +be really kind without being a little venturesome. +The small shocks of our increasing vocabulary will in +all probability be as helpful to our friends as to ourselves.</p> +<p>Such then are the excellences of speech. If we +would cultivate ourselves in the use of English, we +must make our daily talk accurate, daring and full. +I have insisted on these points the more because in +my judgment all literary power, especially that of +busy men, is rooted in sound speech. But though the +roots are here, the growth is also elsewhere. And I +pass to my later precepts, which, if the earlier one +has been laid well to heart, will require only brief +discussion.</p> +<p>Secondly, “Welcome every opportunity for writing.” +Important as I have shown speech to be, there +is much that it cannot do. Seldom can it teach structure. +Its space is too small. Talking moves in sentences, +and rarely demands a paragraph. I make my +little remark,—a dozen or two words,—then wait for +my friend to hand me back as many more. This gentle +exchange continues by the hour; but either of us +would feel himself unmannerly if he should grasp an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +entire five minutes and make it uninterruptedly his. +That would not be speaking, but rather speech-making. +The brief groupings of words which make up +our talk furnish capital practice in precision, boldness +and variety; but they do not contain room enough for +exercising our constructive faculties. Considerable +length is necessary if we are to learn how to set forth +<i>B</i> in right relation to <i>A</i> on the one hand and to <i>C</i> on +the other; and while keeping each a distinct part, are +to be able through their smooth progression to weld +all the parts together into a compacted whole. Such +wholeness is what we mean by literary form. Lacking +it, any piece of writing is a failure; because in +truth it is not a piece, but pieces. For ease of reading, +or for the attainment of an intended effect, unity +is essential—the multitude of statements, anecdotes; +quotations, arguings, gay sportings and appeals, all +“bending one way their gracious influence.” And +this dominant unity of the entire piece obliges unity +also in the subordinate parts. Not enough has been +done when we have huddled together a lot of wandering +sentences and penned them in a paragraph, +or even when we have linked them together by the +frail ties of “and, and.” A sentence must be compelled +to say a single thing; a paragraph, a single +thing; an essay, a single thing. Each part is to be a +preliminary whole and the total a finished whole. +But the ability to construct one thing out of many +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +does not come by nature. It implies fecundity, restraint, +an eye for effects, the forecast of finish while +we are still working in the rough, obedience to the +demands of development and a deaf ear to whatever +calls us into the by-paths of caprice; in short it implies +that the good writer is to be an artist.</p> +<p>Now something of this large requirement which +composition makes, the young writer instinctively +feels, and he is terrified. He knows how ill-fitted he +is to direct “toil coöperant to an end”; and when +he sits down to the desk and sees the white sheet of +paper before him, he shivers. Let him know that the +shiver is a suitable part of the performance. I well +remember the pleasure with which, as a young man, I +heard my venerable and practised professor of rhetoric +say that he supposed there was no work known +to man more difficult than writing. Up to that time +I had supposed its severities peculiar to myself. It +cheered me, and gave me courage to try again, to +learn that I had all mankind for my fellow sufferers. +Where this is not understood, writing is avoided. +From such avoidance I would save the young writer +by my precept to seek every opportunity to write. +For most of us this is a new way of confronting composition—treating +it as an opportunity, a chance, and +not as a burden or compulsion. It saves from slavishness +and takes away the drudgery of writing, to view +each piece of it as a precious and necessary step in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +the pathway to power. To those engaged in bread-winning +employments these opportunities will be few. +Spring forward to them, then, using them to the full. +Severe they will be because so few, for only practice +breeds ease; but on that very account let no one of +them pass with merely a second-best performance. +If a letter is to be written to a friend, a report to an +employer, a communication to a newspaper, see that +it has a beginning, a middle and an end. The majority +of writings are without these pleasing adornments. +Only the great pieces possess them. Bear +this in mind and win the way to artistic composition +by noticing what should be said first, what second +and what third.</p> +<p>I cannot leave this subject, however, without congratulating +the present generation on its advantages +over mine. Children are brought up to-day, in happy +contrast with my compeers, to feel that the pencil is +no instrument of torture, hardly indeed to distinguish +it from the tongue. About the time they leave their +mother’s arms they take their pen in hand. On paper +they are encouraged to describe their interesting +birds, friends, adventures. Their written lessons are +almost as frequent as their oral, and they learn to +write compositions while not yet quite understanding +what they are about. Some of these fortunate ones +will, I hope, find the language I have sadly used about +the difficulty of writing extravagant. And let me say +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +too that since frequency has more to do with ease of +writing than anything else, I count the newspaper +men lucky because they are writing all the time, and I +do not think so meanly of their product as the present +popular disparagement would seem to require. It +is hasty work undoubtedly and bears the marks of +haste. But in my judgment, at no period of the English +language has there been so high an average of +sensible, vivacious and informing sentences written as +appears in our daily press. With both good and evil +results, the distinction between book literature and +speech literature is breaking down. Everybody is +writing, apparently in verse and prose; and if the +higher graces of style do not often appear, neither on +the other hand do the ruder awkwardnesses and +obscurities. A certain straightforward English is becoming +established. A whole nation is learning the +use of its mother tongue. Under such circumstances +it is doubly necessary that any one who is conscious of +feebleness in his command of English should promptly +and earnestly begin the cultivation of it.</p> +<p>My third precept shall be, “Remember the other +person.” I have been urging self-cultivation in English +as if it concerned one person alone, ourself. +But every utterance really concerns two. Its aim +is social. Its object is communication; and while +unquestionably prompted halfway by the desire to +ease our mind through self-expression, it still finds +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +its only justification in the advantage somebody else +will draw from what is said. Speaking or writing +is, therefore, everywhere a double-ended process. It +springs from me, it penetrates him; and both of these +ends need watching. Is what I say precisely what +I mean? That is an important question. Is what I +say so shaped that it can readily be assimilated by +him who hears? This is a question of quite as great +consequence and much more likely to be forgotten. +We are so full of ourselves that we do not remember +the other person. Helter-skelter we pour forth our +unaimed words merely for our personal relief, heedless +whether they help or hinder him whom they still +purport to address. For most of us are grievously +lacking in imagination, which is the ability to go outside +ourselves and take on the conditions of another +mind. Yet this is what the literary artist is always +doing. He has at once the ability to see for himself +and the ability to see himself as others see him. He +can lead two lives as easily as one life; or rather, he +has trained himself to consider that other life as of +more importance than his, and to reckon his comfort, +likings and labors as quite subordinated to the +service of that other. All serious literary work contains +within it this readiness to bear another’s burden. +I must write with pains, that he may read with ease. +I must</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>Find out men’s wants and wills,</p> +<p>And meet them <i>there</i>.</p> +</div></div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></div> +<p>As I write, I must unceasingly study what is the line +of least intellectual resistance along which my thought +may enter the differently constituted mind; and to +that line I must subtly adjust, without enfeebling, +my meaning. Will this combination of words or that +make the meaning clear? Will this order of presentation +facilitate swiftness of apprehension, or will it +clog the movement? What temperamental perversities +in me must be set aside in order to render my +reader’s approach to what I would tell him pleasant? +What temperamental perversities in him must be accepted +by me as fixed facts, conditioning all I say? +These are the questions the skilful writer is always +asking.</p> +<p>And these questions, as will have been perceived +already, are moral questions no less than literary. +That golden rule of generous service by which we +do for others what we would have them do for us is +a rule of writing too. Every writer who knows his +trade perceives that he is a servant, that it is his +business to endure hardship if only his reader may +win freedom from toil, that no impediment to that +reader’s understanding is too slight to deserve diligent +attention, that he has consequently no right to +let a single sentence slip from him unsocialized—I +mean, a sentence which cannot become as naturally +another’s possession as his own. In the very act of +asserting himself he lays aside what is distinctively +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +his. And because these qualifications of the writer +are moral qualifications they can never be completely +fulfilled so long as we live and write. We +may continually approximate them more nearly, but +there will still always be possible an alluring refinement +of exercise beyond. The world of the literary +artist and the moral man is interesting through its +inexhaustibility; and he who serves his fellows by +writing or by speech is artist and moral man in one. +Writing a letter is a simple matter, but it is a moral +matter and an artistic; for it may be done either +with imagination or with raw self-centredness. What +things will my correspondent wish to know? How +can I transport him out of his properly alien surroundings +into the vivid impressions which now are +mine? How can I tell all I long to tell and still be +sure the telling will be for him as lucid and delightful +as for me? Remember the other person, I say. +Do not become absorbed in yourself. Your interests +cover only the half of any piece of writing; the other +man’s less visible half is necessary to complete yours. +And if I have here discussed writing more than speech, +that is merely because when we speak we utter our +first thoughts, but when we write, our second,—or +better still, our fourth; and in the greater deliberation +which writing affords I have felt that the demands of +morality and art, which are universally imbedded in +language, could be more distinctly perceived. Yet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +none the less truly do we need to talk for the other +person than to write for him.</p> +<p>But there remains a fourth weighty precept, and +one not altogether detachable from the third. It +is this: “Lean upon the subject.” We have seen +how the user of language, whether in writing or in +speaking, works for himself; how he works for another +individual too; but there is one more for whom +his work is performed, one of greater consequence +than any person, and that is his subject. From this +comes his primary call. Those who in their utterance +fix their thoughts on themselves, or on other +selves, never reach power. That resides in the subject. +There we must dwell with it and be content +to have no other strength than its. When the frightened +schoolboy sits down to write about Spring, he +cannot imagine where the thoughts which are to make +up his piece are to come from. He cudgels his brain +for ideas. He examines his pen-point, the curtains, +his inkstand, to see if perhaps ideas may not be had +from these. He wonders what his teacher will wish +him to say and he tries to recall how the passage +sounded in the Third Reader. In every direction but +one he turns, and that is the direction where lies the +prime mover of his toil, his subject. Of that he is +afraid. Now, what I want to make evident is that +this subject is not in reality the foe, but the friend. +It is his only helper. His composition is not to be, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +as he seems to suppose, a mass of his laborious inventions, +but it is to be made up exclusively of what the +subject dictates. He has only to attend. At present +he stands in his own way, making such a din with +his private anxieties that he cannot hear the rich suggestions +of the subject. He is bothered with considering +how he feels, or what he or somebody else will +like to see on his paper. This is debilitating business. +He must lean on his subject, if he would have +his writing strong, and busy himself with what it +says rather than with what he would say. Matthew +Arnold, in the important preface to his poems of 1853, +contrasting the artistic methods of Greek poetry and +modern poetry, sums up the teaching of the Greeks +in these words: “All depends upon the subject; +choose a fitting action, penetrate yourself with the +feeling of its situations; this done, everything else +will follow.” And he calls attention to the self-assertive +and scatter-brained habits of our time. “How +different a way of thinking from this is ours! We +can hardly at the present day understand what Menander +meant when he told a man who inquired as +to the progress of his comedy that he had finished it, +not having yet written a single line, because he had +constructed the action of it in his mind. A modern +critic would have assured him that the merit of his +piece depended on the brilliant things which arose +under his pen as he went along. I verily think that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +the majority of us do not in our hearts believe that +there is such a thing as a total-impression to be derived +from a poem or to be demanded from a poet. +We permit the poet to select any action he pleases +and to suffer that action to go as it will, provided +he gratifies us with occasional bursts of fine writing +and with a shower of isolated thoughts and images.” +Great writers put themselves and their personal imaginings +out of sight. Their writing becomes a kind +of transparent window on which reality is reflected, +and through which people see, not them, but that of +which they write. How much we know of Shakespeare’s +characters! How little of Shakespeare! Of +him that might almost be said which Isaiah said of +God, “He hideth himself.” The best writer is the +best mental listener, the one who peers farthest into +his matter and most fully heeds its behests. Preëminently +obedient is such a writer,—refinedly, +energetically obedient. I once spent a day with a +great novelist when the book which subsequently +proved his masterpiece was only half written. I +praised his mighty hero, but said I should think the +life of an author would be miserable who, having created +a character so huge, now had him in hand and +must find something for him to do. My friend seemed +puzzled by my remark, but after a moment’s pause +said, “I don’t think you know how we work. I have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +nothing to do with the character. Now that he is +created he will act as he will.”</p> +<p>And such docility must be cultivated by every one +who would write well, such strenuous docility. Of +course there must be energy in plenty; the imagination +which I described in my third section, the passion +for solid form as in my second, the disciplined +and daring powers as in my first; but all these must +be ready at a moment’s notice to move where the +matter calls and to acknowledge that all their worth +is to be drawn from it. Religion is only enlarged +good sense, and the words of Jesus apply as well +to the things of earth as of heaven. I do not know +where we could find a more compendious statement of +what is most important for one to learn who would +cultivate himself in English than the saying in which +Jesus announces the source of his power, “The +word which ye hear is not mine, but the Father’s +which sent me.” Whoever can use such words will +be a noble speaker indeed.</p> +<p>These then are the fundamental precepts which +every one must heed who would command our beautiful +English language. There is of course a fifth. I +hardly need name it; for it always follows after, +whatever others precede. It is that we should do the +work, and not think about it; do it day after day and +not grow weary in bad doing. Early and often we +must be busy and be satisfied to have a great deal of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +labor produce but a small result. I am told that early +in life John Morley, wishing to engage in journalism, +wrote an editorial and sent it to a paper every +day for nearly a year before he succeeded in getting +one accepted. We all know what a power he became +in London journalism. I will not vouch for the truth +of this story, but I am sure an ambitious author is +wise who writes a weekly essay for his stove. Publication +is of little consequence so long as one is getting +one’s self hammered into shape.</p> +<p>But before I close this paper let me acknowledge +that in it I have neglected a whole class of helpful +influences, probably quite as important as any I have +discussed. Purposely I have passed them by. Because +I wished to show what we can do for ourselves, +I have everywhere assumed that our cultivation in +English is to be effected by naked volition and a kind +of dead lift. These are mighty agencies, but seldom in +this interlocked world do they work well alone. They +are strongest when backed by social suggestion and +unconscious custom. Ordinarily the good speaker is +he who keeps good company, but increases the helpful +influence of that company by constant watchfulness +along the lines I have marked out. So supplemented, +my teaching is true. By itself it is not true. It +needs the supplementation of others. Let him who +would speak or write well seek out good speakers +and writers. Let him live in their society,—for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +society of the greatest writers is open to the most +secluded,—let him feel the ease of their excellence, +the ingenuity, grace and scope of their diction, and he +will soon find in himself capacities whose development +may be aided by the precepts I have given. Most +of us catch better than we learn. We take up unconsciously +from our surroundings what we cannot altogether +create. All this should be remembered, and +we should keep ourselves exposed to the wholesome +words of our fellow men. Yet our own exertions will +not on that account be rendered less important. We +may largely choose the influences to which we submit; +we may exercise a selective attention among these influences; +we may enjoy, oppose, modify, or diligently +ingraft what is conveyed to us,—and for doing any +one of these things rationally we must be guided by +some clear aim. Such aims, altogether essential even +if subsidiary, I have sought to supply; and I would +reiterate that he who holds them fast may become +superior to linguistic fortune and be the wise director +of his sluggish and obstinate tongue. It is as certain +as anything can be that faithful endeavor will bring +expertness in the use of English. If we are watchful +of our speech, making our words continually more +minutely true, free and resourceful; if we look upon +our occasions of writing as opportunities for the deliberate +work of unified construction; if in all our +utterances we think of him who hears as well as of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +him who speaks; and above all, if we fix the attention +of ourselves and our hearers on the matter we talk +about and so let ourselves be supported by our subject—we +shall make a daily advance not only in English +study, but in personal power, in general serviceableness +and in consequent delight.</p> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +<a name='V_DOUBTS_ABOUT_UNIVERSITY_EXTENSION' id='V_DOUBTS_ABOUT_UNIVERSITY_EXTENSION'></a> +<h3>V +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />DOUBTS ABOUT UNIVERSITY EXTENSION<a name='FNanchor_0001' id='FNanchor_0001'></a><a href='#Footnote_0001' class='fnanchor'>[1]</a></span></h3> +</div> +<p>A step has lately been taken in American education +which excites the interest and hopes of us all. +England has been our teacher,—England and a persuasive +apostle from that country. A few years ago +the English universities became discontented with +their isolation. For generations they had been devoting +themselves to a single class in the community, and +that too a class which needed least to be brought to +intelligence and power. The mass of the nation, those +by whom its labor and commerce were conducted, had +little access to Oxford and Cambridge. Poverty first, +then social distinctions, and, until recent days, sectarian +haughtiness barred them out. Their exclusion +reacted on the training of the universities themselves. +Conservatism flourished. The worth of an +intellectual interest was rated rather by its traditional +character than by its closeness to life. The +sciences, latter-day things, were pursued hardly at +all. The modern literatures, English included, had +no place. Plato and Aristotle furnished most of the +philosophy. While the rest of the world was deriving +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +from Germany methods of study, from France methods +of exposition, and from America methods of +treating all men alike as rational, English scholarship, +based on no gymnasia, lycées, or high schools, +went its way, little regarding the life of its nation or +that of the world at large.</p> +<p>But there has come a change. Reformers have +been endeavoring to go out and find the common man, +and, in connection with him, to develop those subjects +which before, according to university tradition, were +looked at somewhat askance. English literature, +political economy, modern history, have been put in +the foreground of this popularized education. Far +and wide throughout England an enthusiastic band of +young teachers, under the guidance of officers of the +universities, have been giving instruction in these subjects +to companies in which social grades are for the +time forgotten. And since public libraries are rare in +England, and among the poorer classes the reading +habit is but slightly formed, an ambitious few among +the hearers have prized their opportunities sufficiently +to undertake a certain amount of study and to hand +in papers for the lecturer to inspect and to mark. In +exceptional cases as many as one third of the audience +have thus written exercises and passed examinations. +The great majority of those in attendance +during the three months’ term of course do nothing +more than listen to the weekly lecture.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></div> +<p>This is the very successful English movement +which for some years has been exciting admiration +the world over, and which it is proposed to introduce +into the United States. Rightly to estimate its worth +those aspects of it to which attention has just been +directed should carefully be borne in mind. They +are these: the movement is as much social as scholarly +and accompanies a general democratic upheaval of +an aristocratic nation; it springs up in the neighborhood +of universities to which the common people do +not resort, and in which those subjects which most +concern the minds of modern men are little taught; +in its country other facilities for enabling the average +man to capture knowledge—public libraries, reading +clubs, illustrated magazines, free high schools—are +not yet general; it flourishes in a small and compact +land, where a multitude of populous towns are in such +immediate neighborhood and so connected by a +network of railroads that he who is busied in one +place to-day can, with the slightest fatigue and expense, +appear in five other towns during the remaining +days of the week.</p> +<p>These conditions, and others as gravely distinctive, +do not exist in America. From the first the American +college has been organized by the people and for the +people. It has been about as much resorted to by the +poor as by the rich. Through a widely developed system +of free public schools it has kept itself closely in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +touch with popular ideals. Its graduates go into commercial +life as often as into medicine, the ministry, or +the law. It has shown itself capable of expansion too +in adjusting itself to the modern enlargement of +knowledge. The rigid curriculum, which suited well +enough the needs of our fathers, has been discarded, +and every college, in proportion to the resources at its +command, now offers elective studies and seeks to +meet the needs of differing men. To all who can afford +four years (soon it may be three), and who are +masters of about half as much capital as would support +them during the same time elsewhere, the four +hundred colleges of our country offer an education far +too good to be superseded, duplicated, or weakened. +In these colleges excellent provision has been made, +and has been made once for all, for everybody who +has a little time and a little money to devote to systematic +education of the higher sort.</p> +<p>But our educational scheme has one serious limitation, +and during the last fifty years there have been +many earnest efforts to surmount it. Not every man is +free to seek a systematic training. Multitudes are tied +to daily toil and only in the evening can they consider +their own enlargement. Many grow old before +the craving for knowledge arises. Many also, with +more or less profit, have attended a college, but are +glad subsequently to supply those defects of education +which the experiences of life relentlessly bring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +to view. To all these classes, caught in the whirl of +affairs, the college does not minister. It is true that +much that such people want they get from the public +library, especially as our librarians of the modern +type energetically accept their duties as facilitators +of the public reading. Much is also obtainable from +the cheap issues of the press and from such endowed +courses of higher instruction as those of the Lowell, +Cooper, Brooklyn, Peabody, and Drexel institutes. +But, after all, these supplementary aids, though valuable, +are deficient in guiding power. Most persons, +especially if novices, work best under inspection. +To learners teachers are generally important. There +seems to be still a place in our well-supplied country +for an organization which shall arouse a more general +desire for knowledge; which shall stand ready to +satisfy this desire more cheaply, with less interruption +to daily occupation, and consequently in ways +more fragmentary than the colleges can; and yet one +which shall not leave its pupils alone with books, but +shall supply them with the impulse of the living word +and through writing, discussion and directed reading, +shall economize and render effective the costly +hours of learning. Unquestionably there is a field here +which the colleges cannot till, a field whose harvest +would enrich us all. Can any other agency till it? +To every experiment thus far it has yielded only +meagre, brief and expensive returns. A capital thing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +it would be to give to the busy that which normally +requires time and attention; but how to do it is the +question,—how to do it in reality, and not in mere +outward seeming.</p> +<p>Chautauqua has not done it, impassioned though +that rough and generous institution has been for wide +and fragmentary culture. Its work, indeed, has had +a different aim; and, amusing as that work often appears, +it ought to be understood and acknowledged +as of fundamental consequence in our hastily settled +and heterogeneous land. Chautauqua sends its +little books and papers into stagnant homes from +Maine to California and gives the silent occupants +something to think about. Conversation springs up; +and with it fresh interests, fresh hopes. A new tie is +formed between young and old, as together they persue +the same studies and in the same graduating class +walk through the Golden Gate. Any man who loves +knowledge and his native land must be glad at heart +when he visits a summer assembly of Chautauqua: +there listens to the Orator’s Recognition Address; attends +the swiftly successive Round Tables upon Milton, +Temperance, Geology, the American Constitution, +the Relations of Science and Religion, and the +Doctrine of Rent; perhaps assists at the Cooking +School, the Prayer Meeting, the Concert and the +Gymnastic Drill; or wanders under the trees among +the piazzaed cottages and sees the Hall of Philosophy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +and the wooden Doric Temple shining on their little +eminences; and, best of all, perceives in what throngs +have gathered here the butcher, the baker, and +the candlestick-maker,—a throng themselves, their +wives and daughters a throng—all heated in body, +but none the less aglow for learning and a good time. +The comic aspects of this mixture of science, fresh +air, flirtation, Greek reminiscence, and devoutness +are patent enough; but the way in which the multitude +is being won to discard distrust of knowledge, +and to think of it rather as the desirable goal for all, +is not so generally remarked by scholarly observers. +Yet that is the weighty fact. The actual product +in education may not be large; enthusiasm and the +memory may be more stimulated than the rational +intelligence. But minds are set in motion; an intellectual +world, beyond the domestic and personal, +begins to appear; studious thought forms its fit +friendship with piety, gladness and the sense of a +common humanity; a groundwork of civilization is +prepared. To find a popular movement so composite +and aspiring, we must go back to the mediæval Crusades +or the Greek Mysteries. In these alone do we +observe anything so ideal, so bizarre, so expressive +of the combined intellectual and religious hopes of a +people. In many Chautauqua homes pathetic sacrifices +will be made in the next generation to send +the boys and girls to a real college.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></div> +<p>Now, in proposing to transport to this country +English extension methods the managers have had in +mind nothing so elementarily important as Chautauqua. +They have felt the pity we all feel for persons of +good parts who, through poverty or occupation, are +debarred from a college training. They seek to reach +minds already somewhat prepared, and to such they +undertake to supply solid instruction of the higher +grades. It is this more ambitious design which calls +for criticism. Professor R. G. Moulton speaks of extension +education as “distinguished from school education, +being moulded to meet the wants of adults.” +And again, “So far as method is concerned, we have +considered that we are bound to be not less thorough, +but more thorough, if possible, than the universities +themselves.” If, in the general educational +campaign, we liken Chautauqua to a guerrilla high +school, university extension will be a guerrilla college. +Both move with light armor, have roving commissions, +attack individuals, and themselves appear in +the garb of ordinary life; but they are equipped for +a service in which the more cumbrous organizations +of school and college have thus far proved ineffective. +It is a fortunate circumstance that, with fields of +operation so distinct, no jealousy can exist between +the two bands of volunteers, or between them both +and the regular army. The success of either would +increase the success of the other two. To Chautauqua +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +we are all indebted for lessening the popular +suspicion of expert knowledge; and if the plans of +the extension committee could be carried out, college +methods would have a vogue, and a consequent +respect, which they have never yet enjoyed.</p> +<p>Every one, accordingly, civilian or professional, +wishes the movement well, and recognizes that the +work it proposes to do in our country is not at present +performed. Its aims are excellent. Are they also +practicable? We cannot with certainty say that they +are not, but it is here that doubts arise,—doubts of +three sorts: those which suspect a fundamental difference +in the two countries which try the experiment; +those which are incredulous about the permanent +response which our people will make to the education +offered; and those which question the possibility +of securing a stable body of extension teachers. The +first set of these doubts has been briefly but sufficiently +indicated at the beginning of this paper; the second +may with still greater brevity be summed up here in +the following connected series of inquiries:—</p> +<p>With the multitude of other opportunities for education +which American life affords, will any large +body of men and women attend extension lectures? +Will they attend after the novelty is worn off, say +during the third year? Will they do anything more +than attend? Will they follow courses of study, write +essays, and pass examinations? Will the extension +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +system, any better than its decayed predecessor, the +old lyceum system, resist the demands of popular +audiences and keep itself from slipping out of serious +instruction into lively and eloquent entertainment? +If the lectures are kept true to their aim of furnishing +solid instruction, can they in the long run be paid for? +Will it be possible to find in our country clusters of +half a dozen towns so grouped and so ready to subscribe +to a course of lectures on each day of the week +that out of the entire six a living salary can be obtained? +Will the new teachers be obliged to confine +themselves to the suburbs of large cities, abandoning +the scattered dwellers in the country, that portion of +our population which is almost the only one at present +cut off from tolerable means of culture? If in +order to pursue these destitute ones, correspondence +methods are employed, in addition to the already +approved methods of lecture instruction, will lowering +of the standard follow? In England three or +four years of extension lectures are counted equivalent +to one year of regular study, and a person who +has attended extension courses for this time may be +admitted without further examination to the second +year of university residence. Will anything of the sort +be generally attempted here?</p> +<p>These grave questions are as yet insusceptible of +answer. Affirmative, desirable answers do not seem +probable; but experience alone can make the matter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +plain. Of course the managers are watchfully bearing +such questions in mind, and critical watchfulness +may greatly aid the better answer and hinder the less +desirable. Accordingly anything like a discussion of +this class of practical doubts would be inappropriate +here. Data for the formation of a confident opinion +do not exist. All that can be done by way of warning +is to indicate certain large improbabilities, leaving +them to be confirmed or thwarted by time and human +ingenuity.</p> +<p>But with the third class of doubts the case is different. +These relate to the constitution of the staff +of teachers, and here sufficient facts are at hand to +permit a few points to be demonstrated with considerable +certainty. When, for example, we ask from +what source teachers are to be drawn, we are usually +told that they must come from college faculties. If +the method of the extension lecturer is to be as +thorough as that of the universities themselves, the +lecturers must be experts, not amateurs; and where +except at the colleges does a body of experts exist? +No doubt many well-trained men are scattered +throughout the community as merchants, doctors, +school-teachers, and lawyers. But these men, when +of proved power, have more than they properly can +attend to in their own affairs. It seems to be the +colleges, therefore, to which the movement must look +for its teachers; and in the experiments thus far +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +made in this country the extension lecturing has been +done for the most part by college officers. A professor +of history, political economy, or literature has, in +addition to his college teaching, also given a course +of instruction elsewhere. This feature of the American +system, one may say with confidence, must prove +a constant damage to the work of the colleges and, +if persisted in, must ultimately destroy the extension +scheme itself.</p> +<p>In England the extension teachers are not university +teachers. To have no independent staff for extension +work is a novelty of the American undertaking. +The very name, university extension, besides being +barbaric, is in its English employment largely misleading; +since neither the agencies for extending nor +indeed, for the most part, the studies extended, are +found at the universities at all. A small syndicate +or committee, appointed from among the university +officers, is the only share the university has in the +business. The impression, so general in this country, +that English university teachers are roaming about +the island, lecturing to mixed audiences, is an entire +error. The university teachers stay at home and send +other people, their own graduates chiefly, to instruct +the multitude. A committee of them decides on the +qualifications for the work of such persons as care to +devote themselves to itinerant teaching as a profession. +For those so selected they arrange times, places, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +and subjects; but they themselves do not move from +their own lecture rooms. Nor is there occasion for +their doing so. In the slender development of popular +education in England, many more persons of the +upper classes become trained as specialists than can +find places as university teachers. There thus arises +a learned and leisured accumulation which capitally +serves the country in case of a new educational need. +On this accumulated stock of cultured men—men +who otherwise could not easily bring their culture to +market—the extension movement draws. These +men are its teachers, its permanent teachers, since +there are not competing places striving to draw them +away. In the two countries the educational situation +is exactly reversed: in England there are more trained +men than positions; in America, more positions than +trained men. It seems probable too that this condition +of things will continue long, so far as we are +concerned; at least there is no present prospect of our +reaching a limit in the demand for competent men. +Whenever a college has a chair to fill, it is necessary +to hunt far and wide for a suitable person to fill it. +The demand is not from the old places alone. Almost +every year a new college is founded. Every year the +old ones grow. In twenty-five years Harvard has +quadrupled its staff. Columbia, Cornell, Princeton, +Yale, the University of Michigan, the University of +Pennsylvania,—indeed almost every strong college +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +in the country,—shows an immense advance. A +Western state is no sooner settled than it establishes +a state university, and each of the sects starts from +one to three colleges besides. No such perpetual expansion +goes on in England. The number of learned +positions there is measurably fixed. If more experts +than can fill them, or than care to enter political life, +the liberal professions, and the civil service, are manufactured +in the course of a year, the surplus stock is +at the disposal of the extension syndicate. Many of +these men too are persons of means, to whom a position +of dignity is of more consequence than a large +salary. The problem, accordingly, of organizing popular +instruction out of such a body of waiting experts +is a comparatively simple one; but it is not so +simple here. In our country any man who has a fair +acquaintance with a special subject and moderate +skill in imparting it, especially if he will be contented +with a small salary, can be pretty sure of college +appointment.</p> +<p>Naturally enough, therefore, the organizers of the +extension movement, despairing of finding among us +competent unattached teachers, have turned at once +to the colleges; but the colleges are a very unsafe support +to lean upon. A professor in a university where +the studies are elective has no more superfluous time +than a busy lawyer, or doctor, or business man. +Merely to keep up with the literature of a subject, to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +say nothing of that research and writing which should +enlarge its limits, is an enormous task. Teaching +too is no longer an affair of text-books and recitations. +Leisurely days of routine ease belong to the +past. A professor nowadays must prepare lectures +incessantly; must perpetually revise them; must arrange +examinations; direct the reading of his students; +receive their theses; himself read a large part of their +voluminous written work; personally oversee his +advanced men; gather them about him in laboratory, +seminary and conference; attend innumerable committee +and faculty meetings; devise legislation for +the further development of his college and department; +correspond with schools and colleges where +his students, after taking their higher degree, may +suitably be placed; and if at the end of a hard-worked +day he can find an hour’s leisure, he must still keep +his door open for students or fellow-officers to enter. +So laborious have become the duties of a university +teacher that few large staffs now go through a year +without one or two of their members breaking down. +With the growing complexity of work it often seems +as if the proper business of college officers, study and +teaching, must some day cease altogether, crowded +out by the multifarious tasks with which they are +only indirectly connected. It is useless to say that +these things are not necessary. Whoever neglects +them will cease to make his college, his subject and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +his influence grow. It is because professors now see +that they cannot safely neglect them that the modern +college differs fundamentally from its humdrum predecessor +of a quarter of a century ago. Any movement +which seeks to withdraw a professor’s attention +from these things, and induces him to put his soul +elsewhere, inflicts on the community a serious damage. +No amount of intellectual stimulus furnished +to little companies here and there can atone for the +loss that must fall on education when college teachers +pledge themselves to do serious work in other places +than in their own libraries and lecture rooms. To be +an explorer and a guide in a department of human +knowledge is an arduous profession. It admits no +half-hearted service.</p> +<p>Of course if the work demanded elsewhere is not +serious, the case is different. Rather with benefit than +with damage a college teacher may on occasion recast +the instruction that was intended for professionals +and offer it to a popular audience. In this way a +professor makes himself known and makes his college +known. Many of the small colleges are now engaging +in university extension as an inexpensive means of +advertising themselves. But such lecturing is incidental, +voluntary and perpetually liable to interruption. +Beyond the immediate series of lectures it cannot +be depended on. There is nothing institutional +about it. The men who undertake it are owned elsewhere, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +and a second mortgage is not usually a very +valuable piece of property. A movement which places +its reliance on the casual teaching of overworked men +is condemned from the start. University extension +can never pass beyond the stage of amateurism and +temporary expedient until, like its English namesake, +it has a permanent staff of instructors exclusively devoted +to its service.</p> +<p>Where, then, is such a staff to be obtained? In +view of the conditions of education in this country +already described, it is improbable that it can be obtained +at all. But something may still be done,—something, +however, of a more modest sort than enthusiasts +at present have in mind. There issue from +our great universities every year a number of men +who have had two or three years’ training beyond +their bachelor’s degree. Some of them have had a +year or two of foreign study. They frequently wish +to teach. Places do not immediately open to them. +If the extension movement would set them to work, +it might have all their time at a moderate salary for +two or three years. Such men, it is true, would be +inexperienced, and their connection with itinerant +teaching could not be rendered lasting. As soon as +one of them proved his power as a teacher, some +college would call him; and he would seldom prefer +the nomadic and fragmentary life to an established +one. Plainly too under the charge of such men the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +grade of instruction could not be the highest; but it +might be sound, inspiriting even, and it is in any case +all that present circumstances render possible. We +may mourn that those who are masters in their several +provinces are already fully employed. We may wish +there were a multitude of masters sitting about, ready +for enlistment in a missionary undertaking. But there +are no such masters. The facts are evident enough; +and if the extension movement aims at a durable +existence, it will respect these facts. The men it +wants it cannot have without damaging them; and +damaging them, it damages the higher education of +which they are the guardians. Teachers of a lower +grade are at hand, ready to be experimented with. +The few experiments already tried have been fairly +successful. Let the extension leaders give up all +thought of doing here what has been done in England. +The principal part of that work is performed +for us by other means. The wisest guidance, accordingly, +may not lead the movement to any long +success. If, however, university extension will keep +itself clearly detached from other educational agencies +and make a quiet offer of humble yet serviceable +instruction, there is a fair prospect that by +somewhat slow degrees a permanent new power +may be added to the appliances for rendering busy +Americans intelligent.</p> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0001' id='Footnote_0001'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0001'><span class='label'>[1]</span></a> +<p>Printed in 1892.</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +<a name='VI_SPECIALIZATION' id='VI_SPECIALIZATION'></a> +<h3>VI +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />SPECIALIZATION<a name='FNanchor_0002' id='FNanchor_0002'></a><a href='#Footnote_0002' class='fnanchor'>[2]</a></span></h3> +</div> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen of the graduating class, +this afternoon belongs to you. This morning we dedicated +a chime of bells to the memory of Mrs. Palmer, +and in those moving exercises you had but a slender +share. Probably not half a dozen of you ever +saw her who, once seen, was loved with romantic +ardor. Undoubtedly many of you are different from +what you would have been had she not lived, and +lived here; for her influence so passed into the structure +of this University that she will shape successive +generations of you for a long time to come. But +enough of her. Let us dismiss her from our thoughts. +Too much praise we have already lavished on one +who was ever simple and self-forgetting. She would +chide our profusion. If we would think as she would +wish us to think, let us turn rather to the common +matters of the day, reflecting on those joys and perplexities +which have attended you throughout these +formative years. One especially among these perplexities, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +perhaps the greatest of all, I would invite +you to consider now. Let me set it clearly before +you.</p> +<p>This morning I sat down to breakfast with about +a hundred of you who had entered on the attainment +of the highest degree which this University offers. +You were advanced specialists. You had each chosen +some single line of endeavor. But even then I remembered +that you were not the only specialists here. +Before me this afternoon I see candidates in medicine, +men and women who have taken for their specialty +the warfare with pain and disease. They have +said, “All that I can ever know, I will bring to bear +on this urgent problem.” Here also are the lawyers, +impassioned for justice, for the quelling of human +strife. That is their specialty. They too restrict themselves +to a single point of view. Beside them sit the +scientific men, who looking over the vast expanse of +nature have accepted the task of tracing the physical +aspects of this marvellous machine. Nor can I +stop here. Throughout the undergraduate department, +as we all know, run dominant interests. I +should be ashamed of a young man who in his four +years had not found some compulsive interest; for +it is only when an interest compels that we can +say that education has begun. So long as we are +simply learning what is set before us, taking the +routine mass of academic subjects, we may be faithful +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +students, but we are not scholars. No, it is when +with a free heart we give ourselves to a subject, bidding +it take of us all it demands and feeling that we +had rather attend to it than to anything else, because +it expresses our personal desires—then it is that its +quickening influence takes hold. But this is specialization. +We might think of the University of Chicago +then as a great specializing machine.</p> +<p>But why has each of you set himself this task of +specialization? Because the world needs leaders, and +you have chosen yourselves to be those leaders. Are +you aware how exceptional is your condition? The +last census shows that at present hardly one per cent +of our population is in our colleges. You are of that +one per cent, and you are here in order that you may +enlighten the other ninety-nine per cent. If through +ignorance you fail, you will cause others to fail and +you had better never have come to this University. +To some sort of leadership you have dedicated yourselves, +and to this aim you should be true. But do +not at times doubts cross your mind? Have you +not occasionally asked yourselves whether you can +attain such leadership and make the most of your +lives by shutting yourselves up to a specialty? Multitudes +of interesting things are calling; shall you +turn away from them and follow a single line? It will +be worth while to-day to consider these fundamental +questions and inquire how far we are justified in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +specializing, what dangers there are in it, and in what +degree those dangers may be avoided.</p> +<p>Let me say, then, at the start, that I regard specialization +as absolutely essential to scholarship. There +is no scholarship without it, for it is involved in the +very process of knowing. When I look at this desk +I am specializing; that is, I am detaching this piece +of furniture from all else in the room. I am limiting +myself, and I cannot see without it. I can gaze without +specialization, but I cannot see without specialization. +If I am to know anything by sight, that knowledge +must come through the limitation of sight. I +seize this object, cast away all others, and thus fix +my attention. Or if I am carefully to observe, I +even put my eye on a single point of the desk. There +is no other way. Clear knowledge becomes possible +only through precise observation. Now specialization +is nothing but this necessary limitation of attention; +and we, as specialists, are merely carrying out on a +large scale what every human being must practise +in some degree whenever he knows. We employ the +process persistently, and for the sake of science are +willing to hold ourselves steadily to a single line of +observation. And we cannot do otherwise. The principles +involved in the specialization of the senses +run throughout all science. If we would know, we +must hold the attention long on a given subject.</p> +<p>But there is an unfortunate side to specialization. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +It obliges us to discard other important interests. +To discard merely unimportant ones is easy. But +every evening when I sit down to devote myself to +my ethics I am aware that there are persons starving +in Boston who might be saved if I should drop my +work and go to them. Yet I sit calmly there and say, +“Let them starve; I am going to study ethics.” I +do not see how I could be a suitable professor of +ethics unless I were willing thus to limit myself. That +is the hard part, as I understand it, of specialization,—the +cutting off of things that are worth while. I +am sure you have already found it out. Many of +you have come from places of narrow opportunity +and here find a welcome abundance. Remembering +how you have longed to obtain such privileges, you +will be tempted to scatter yourselves over a wide +field, gathering a little here and a little there. At +the end of the year you will have nothing, if you do +that. The only possibility of gain is to choose your +field, devote serious time to it, count yourself a +specialist, and propose to live like one. Goethe admirably +announces the principle: “Wer grosses will +muss sich beschränken können.” You must accept +limitations if you will go on to power, for in limitation +the very process of knowledge is rooted.</p> +<p>Furthermore, not only is specialization forced upon +us by the nature of knowledge, but without it our +own powers cannot receive appropriate discipline. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +is difficult business to fashion a sound observer. Each +province of science has its special modes of observation, +its own modes of reasoning even. So long as +we are unfamiliar with these and obliged to hold +ourselves to them through conscious control, our +work is poor. It is slow, inaccurate, and exhausting. +Only when we have trained ourselves to such aptitudes +that within a certain field our observations and reasonings +are instinctive do we become swift, sure, and +unfatigued in research. To train our powers then +we must begin to specialize early and hold ourselves +steadily within bounds. As one looks over the names +of those who have accomplished much, one is surprised +at the number who were early specialists. +Take my own department: Berkeley writes his great +work when he is twenty-five; Hume publishes his +masterpiece at twenty-seven. Or again, Keats had +brought his wonderful results to accomplishment and +died at twenty-five; Shelley at thirty; Marlowe, the +greatest loss English letters ever met, at twenty-seven. +It is just the same in other fields: Alexander dies +at thirty-six, Jesus at thirty-three. Yes, let us look +nearer home: the most forcible leader American +education has ever had became president of Harvard +University at thirty-five; President Hyde of Bowdoin +took his position at twenty-seven; my own wife, +Alice Freeman, was president of Wellesley at twenty-six. +These are early specialists; and because they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +specialized early they acquired an aptitude, a smoothness +of work, a precision of insight, and width of power +which could not have been theirs had they begun +later. I would not deny that there have been geniuses +who seemed to begin late: Kant was such; Locke +was such. You will recall many within your own +fields. But I think when you search the career of +those who come to power in comparatively late +years, you will find that there has usually been a train +of covert specialization running through their lives. +They may not have definitely named their field to +themselves, or produced work within that field in +early years, but everything had been converging +toward that issue. I believe, therefore, you ought to +respect your specialty, because only through it can +your powers be brought to their highest accuracy +and service.</p> +<p>One more justification of specialization I will briefly +mention, that it is necessary for the organization of +society. No motive is good for much until it is socialized. +If specialization only developed our individual +selves, we could hardly justify it; but it is the means +of progress for society. The field of knowledge is +vast; no man can master it, and its immensity was +never so fully understood as to-day. The only way +the whole province can be conquered and brought +under subjection to human needs is by parting it out, +one man being content to till his little corner while +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +his neighbor is engaged on something widely different. +We must part out the field of knowledge and +specialize on our allotted work, in order that there +may be entirety in science. If we seek to have entirety +in ourselves, science will be fragmentary and +feeble. That division of labor which has proved efficient +everywhere else is no less needful in science.</p> +<p>But I suppose it is hardly necessary to justify +specialization to this audience. Most of you have +staked heavily on it, putting yourselves to serious +inconvenience, many of you heavily mortgaging your +future, in order to come here and devote yourselves +to some single interest. I might confidently go through +this room asking each of you what is your subject? +And you would proudly reply, “My subject is this. +My subject is this. My subject is this.” I think you +would feel ashamed if you had not thus specialized. +I see no occasion, therefore, to elaborate what I have +urged. As I understand it, the three roots of specialization +are these: it is grounded in the very nature of +the knowing process; it is grounded in the needs of +ourselves as individuals, in order that we may attain +our maximum efficiency; it is grounded in the needs +of society, because only so can society reach that +fulness of knowledge which its progress requires.</p> +<p>But, after all, the beliefs which are accepted as +matters of course in this room are largely denounced +outside it. We must acknowledge that our confidence +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +in specialization encounters many doubts in the community. +It may be well, then, to place ourselves +where that community stands and ask the general +public to tell us why it doubts us, what there is in +our specialized attitude which it thinks defective, and +what are the complaints which it is disposed to bring +against us? I will try to take the position of devil’s +advocate and plead the cause of the objector to +specialization.</p> +<p>Specialization, it is said, leads to ignorance; indeed +it rather aims at ignorance than knowledge. +When I attend to this desk, it is true I secure a bit +of knowledge, but how small is that bit in comparison +to all the things in this room which I might know +about! It is but a fraction. Yet I have condemned +all else in the room to ignorance, reserving only this +one little object for knowledge. Now that is what we +are all of us doing on a great scale; by specializing, +by limiting our attention, we cut off what is not +attended to. It is often assumed that attention is +mainly a positive affair and occupied with what we +are to know. But that is a very small portion of it; +really its important part is the negative, the removal +of what we do not wish to observe. We cut ourselves +off from the great mass of knowledge which is offered. +Is it not then true that every specialist has disciplined +himself to be an ignoramus? He has drawn a fence +around a little portion of the universe and said, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +“Within that fence I know something.” “Yes,” the +public replies, “but you do not know anything outside.” +And is not the public right? When we step +forward and claim to be learned men, is not the +public justified in saying, “I know a great deal more +than you do; I know a thousand things and you know +only one. You say you know that one through and +through, and of course I do not know my thousand +things through and through. But it is not necessary. +I perceive their relations; I can handle them; I can +use them in practice; can you?” “Well, no,” we are +obliged to say, “we specialists are a little fumbling +when we try to take hold of the world. We are not +altogether skilful in action, just because we are such +specialists.” You students here have been devoting +yourselves to some one point—I am afraid many +of you are going to have sad experience of it—you +have been learning to know something nobody else +on earth does know, and then you go forth to seek a +position. But the world may have no use for you; +there are only two or three positions of that sort in +the country, and those may happen to be filled. Just +because you are such an elaborate scholar you cannot +earn your daily bread. You have cut yourself +off from everything but that one species of learning, +and that does not happen to be wanted. Therefore +you are not wanted. Such is the too frequent condition +of the specialist. The thousand things he does +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +not know; it is only the one thing he does know. +And because he is so ignorant, he is helpless.</p> +<p>Turning then to our second justification of specialization, +the case seems equally bad. I said that +specialization was needed for the training of our +powers. The training of them all? Not that, but +the training of only certain ones among them. The +others hang slack. In those regions of ourselves we +count for little. We are men of weight only within +the range of the powers we have trained; and what +a large slice of us lies outside these! Accordingly the +general public declares that there is no judgment so +bad as the judgment of a specialist. Few practical +situations exactly coincide with his specialty, and +outside his specialty his judgment is worse than that +of the novice. He has been training himself in reference +to something precise; and the moment he +ventures beyond it, the very exactitude of his discipline +limits his worth. The man who has not been a +specialist, who has dabbled in all things and has acquired +a rough and ready common sense, that man’s +judgment is worth something in many different sections +of life, but the judgment of the specialist is +painfully poor beyond his usual range. You remember +how, in the comic opera, the practice is satirized +of appointing a person who has never been at sea +to take charge of the navy of a great country. But +that is the only sensible course to pursue. Put a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +specialist there, and the navy will be wretchedly organized, +because the administration of the navy requires +something more than the specialism of seamanship. +It is necessary to coördinate seamanship +with many other considerations, and the man trained +in the specialty of seamanship is little likely to have +that ability. Therefore ordinarily we use our experts +best by putting them under the control of those who +are not experts. Common sense has the last word. +The coördinating power which has not been disciplined +in single lines is what ultimately takes the +direction of affairs. We need the specialist within +his little field; shut him up there, and he is valuable +enough; but don’t let him escape. That seems to +be the view of the public. They keep the specialist +confined because they utterly distrust his judgment +when he extends himself abroad.</p> +<p>And when we look at the third of our grounds for +justification, social need, the public declares that +the specialists are intolerably presumptuous. Knowing +their own subject, they imagine they can dictate +to anybody and do not understand how limited is +their importance. Again and again it happens that +because a man does know some one thing pretty well +he sets himself up as a great man in general. My +own province suffers in this respect more than most; +for as soon as a man acquires considerable skill in +chemistry or biology, he is apt to issue a pronunciamento +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +on philosophy. But philosophy does not suffer +alone. Everywhere the friends of the great specialist +are telling him he has proved himself a mighty man, +quite competent to sit in judgment on the universe; +and he, forgetting that the universe and the particular +subject he knows something about are two +different things, really imagines that his ignorant +opinions deserve consideration.</p> +<p>Now I suppose we must acknowledge that in all +this blasphemy against our calling, there is a good +deal of truth. These certainly are dangers which all +of us specialists incur. I agree that they are inevitable +dangers. Do not, however, let us on account +of them abandon specialization and seek to acquire +a mass of miscellaneous information. Bacon said, “I +take all knowledge for my province.” If we say it, +we shall become not Bacons but fools. No, that is +the broad road to ignorance. But laying these profound +dangers of specialization well to heart, assured +that they beset us all, let us search for remedial +measures. Let us ask how such dangers may be reduced +to a minimum. Is there a certain way in which +we may engage in the specialist’s research and still +save ourselves from some of the evils I have here depicted? +I think there is. To find it we will follow +the same three avenues which have been leading us +thus far.</p> +<p>In regard to the first, the limitation of attention, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +I understand that, after all, our specialty cannot +fill our entire life. We do sometimes sit down to +dinner; we occasionally talk with a friend; we now +and then take a journey; we permit ourselves from +time to time to read some other book than one which +refers to our subject. That is, I take it, if we are fully +alive to the great danger that in specializing we are +cutting off a large part of the universe, we shall be +wise in gathering eagerly whatever additional knowledge +we may acquire outside our specialty. And I +must say that the larger number of eminent specialists +whom I have happened to know have been men +pretty rich in knowledge outside their specialties. +They were men who well apprehended the extreme +danger of their limited modes of pursuit and who +greedily grasped, therefore, at every bit of knowledge +they could obtain which lay beyond their +province. They appropriated all the wisdom they +could; and merely because it did not exactly fit in +with their specialty, they did not turn it away. I do +not know how far it is wise to go in this effort to repair +the one-sidedness in which most of us are compelled +to live. A rather extreme case was once brought +to my attention. There was a student at Harvard who +had been a high scholar with me, and I found that +he was also so specializing in the classics that when +he graduated he took classical honors. Some years +later I learned that he was one of the highest scholars +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +in the Medical School. Meeting him a few years after +he had entered his profession, I asked, “How did +it happen that you changed your mind so markedly? +You devoted yourself to classics and philosophy +in college. What made you finally decide to become +a physician?” “Finally decide!” said he. “Why, +from childhood up I never intended to be anything +else.” “But,” I persisted, “I cannot be mistaken in +recalling that you devoted yourself in college to +classics and philosophy.” “Yes,” he said, “I did, +because I knew I should never have another chance +at those subjects. I was going to give the rest of my +life to medicine, so I took those years for classics and +philosophy.” I asked, “Wasn’t that a great mistake; +haven’t you now found out your blunder?” +“Oh, no,” said he, “I am a much better physician +on that account; I could not have done half so well +if I hadn’t had all that training in philosophy and +classics.” Now I cannot advise such a course for +everybody. It takes a big man to do that. If you are +big enough, it is worth while laying a very broad +foundation; but considering the size on which most +of us are planned, it is wiser to begin early and +specialize from the very start.</p> +<p>Well, then, here is one mode of making up for the +defects of specialization: we may pick up knowledge +outside our subject. But it is an imperfect mode; +you never can put away your limitations altogether. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +You can do a great deal. Use your odd quarter-hours +wisely and do not merely play in fragmentary +times, understanding that these are precious seasons +for acquiring the knowledge which lies beyond your +province. Then every time you talk with anybody, +lead him neatly to what he knows best, keeping an +attentive ear, becoming a first-class listener, and seeking +to get beyond yourself. By doing so you will undoubtedly +much enlarge the narrow bounds to which +you have pledged yourself. Yet this policy will not be +enough. It will require to be supplemented by something +more. Therefore I should say in the second +place, that in disciplining our powers we must be careful +to conceive our specialty broadly enough. In taking +it too narrowly lies our chief danger. There are +two types of specialist. There is the man who regards +his specialty as a door into which he goes and by +which he shuts the world out, hiding himself with his +own little interests. That is the petty, poor specialist, +the specialist who never becomes a man of power, +however much he may be a man of learning. But +there is an entirely different sort of specialist from +that; it is the man who regards his specialty as a +window out of which he may peer upon all the world. +His specialty is merely a point of view from which +everything is regarded. Consequently without departing +from our specialty each of us may escape narrowness. +Instead of running over all the earth and contemplating +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +it in a multitude of different aspects, the +wise specialist chooses some single point of view and +examines the universe as it is related to this. Everything +therefore has a meaning for him, everything contributes +something to his specialty. Narrowing himself +while he is getting his powers disciplined, as those +powers become trained he slacks them off and gives +them a wider range; for he knows very well that +while the world is cut up into little parcels it never +can be viewed rightly. It will always be distorted. +For, after all, things are what they are through their +relations, and if you snap those relations you never +truly conceive anything. Accordingly, as soon as +we have got our specialty, we should begin to coördinate +that specialty with everything else. At first +we may fix our attention on some single problem +within a given field, but soon we discover that we +cannot master that problem without knowing the +rest of the field also. As we go on to know the rest +of the field and make ourself a fair master of that +science, we discover that that science depends on +other sciences. Never was there an age of the world +in which this interlocking of the sciences was so +clearly perceived as in our day. Formerly we seemed +able to isolate a particular topic and know something +of it, but in our evolutionary time nothing of that +kind is possible. Each thing is an epitome of the +whole. Have you been training your eye to see a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +world in a grain of sand? Can you look through your +specialty out upon the total universe and say: “I am +a specialist merely because I do not want to be a +narrow man. My specialty is my telescope. Everything +belongs to me. I cannot, it is true, turn to +it all at once. Being a feeble person I must advance +from point to point, accepting limitations; but just +as fast as I can, having mastered those limitations, +I shall cast them aside and press on into ever broader +regions.”</p> +<p>But I said specialization was fundamentally justified +through the organization of society, because by +its division of toil we contribute our share to the total +of human knowledge; and yet the popular objector +declares that we are presumptuous, and because we +have mastered our own specialty we are apt to assume +ourselves capable of pronouncing judgment over +the whole field. Undoubtedly there is this danger; +but such a result is not inevitable. The danger is +one which we are perfectly capable of setting aside. +The temper of our mind decides the matter, and this +is entirely within our control. What is the use of our +going forth presumptuous persons? We certainly +shall be unserviceable if we are persons of that type. +That is not the type of Charles Darwin in biology, +of William James in psychology, of Horace Howard +Furness in Shakespeare criticism, of Albert Michelson +in physics. These are men as remarkable for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +modesty and simplicity as for scholarly insight. The +true characteristic of a learned specialist is humility. +What we want to be training ourselves in is respect +for other people and a sense of solidarity with them. +Our work would be of little use if there were not +somebody at our side who cared nothing for that +work of ours and cared immensely for his own. It +is our business to respect that other man, whether +he respects us or not. We must learn to look upon +every specialist as a fellow worker. Without him we +cannot be perfect. Let us make ourselves as large +as possible, in order that we may contribute our little +something to that to which all others are contributing. +It is this coöperative spirit which it should be ours +to acquire. And it seems to me that you are under +peculiarly fortunate circumstances for acquiring it. +What strikes me as fatal is to have a group of young +specialists taken and trained by themselves, detachedly, +shut off from others. Nothing of that sort +occurs here. Every day you are rubbing shoulders +with persons who have other interests than yours. +When you walk to dinner, you fall in with a comrade +who has been spending his day over something widely +unlike that which has concerned you. Possibly you +have been able to lead him to talk about it; possibly +you have gained an insight into what he was seeking, +and seen how his work largely supplements your own. +If you have had proper respect for him and proper +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +humility in regard to yourself, this great society of +specialists has filled out your work for you day after +day; and in that sense of coöperation, of losing yourselves +in the common service of scientific mankind, +you have found the veritable glory of these happy +years.</p> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0002' id='Footnote_0002'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0002'><span class='label'>[2]</span></a> +<p>On the morning of June 9, 1908, a chime of bells was dedicated +at the University of Chicago in honor of Alice Freeman +Palmer. At the Convocation Exercises in the afternoon the following +address was delivered.</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +<a name='VII_THE_GLORY_OF_THE_IMPERFECT' id='VII_THE_GLORY_OF_THE_IMPERFECT'></a> +<h3>VII +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />THE GLORY OF THE IMPERFECT<a name='FNanchor_0003' id='FNanchor_0003'></a><a href='#Footnote_0003' class='fnanchor'>[3]</a></span></h3> +</div> +<p>A few years ago Matthew Arnold, after travelling +in this country and revising the somewhat unfavorable +opinion of us which he had formed earlier and at +a distance, still wrote in his last paper on Civilization +in the United States that America, in spite of +its excellences, is an uninteresting land. He thought +our institutions remarkable. He pointed out how +close a fit exists between them and the character of +the citizens, a fit so close as is hardly to be found +in other countries. He saw much that is of promise +in our future. But after all, he declares that no man +will live here if he can live elsewhere, because America +is an uninteresting land.</p> +<p>This remark of Mr. Arnold’s is one which we may +well ponder. As I consider how many of you are +preparing to go forth from college and establish +yourselves in this country, I ask myself whether +you must find your days uninteresting. You certainly +have not been finding them uninteresting here. +Where were college days ever dull? It is a beautiful +circumstance that, the world over, the period of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +education is the period of romance. No such thing +was ever heard of as a college student who did not +enjoy himself, a college student who was not full of +hope. And if this has been the case with us prosaic +males of the past, what must be the experience of +your own hopeful sex? I am sure you are looking forward +with eagerness to your intended work. Is it +to be blighted? Are you to find life dull? It might +seem from the remark of Mr. Arnold that it would +probably be so, for you must live in an uninteresting +land.</p> +<p>When this remark of Mr. Arnold’s was first made +a multitude of voices in all parts of our country declared +that Mr. Arnold did not know what he was +talking about. As a stupid Englishman he had come +here and had failed to see what our land contains. +In reality every corner of it is stuffed with that +beauty and distinction which he denied. For that +was the offensive feature of his statement: he had +said in substance the chief sources of interest are +beauty and distinction. America is not beautiful. +Its scenery, its people, its past, are not distinguished. +It is impossible, therefore, for an intelligent and cultivated +man to find permanent interests here.</p> +<p>The ordinary reply to these unpleasant sayings was, +“America is beautiful, America is distinguished.” +But on the face of the matter this reply might well +be distrusted. Mr. Arnold is not a man likely to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +make such a mistake. He is a trained observer. +His life has been passed in criticism, and criticism of +an extremely delicate sort. It seems to me it must be +rather his standards than his facts which are at +fault. Many of us would be slow to believe our +teacher had made an error in observation; for to +many of us he has been a very great teacher indeed. +Through him we have learned the charm of simplicity, +the refinement of exactitude, the strength of +finished form; we have learned calmness in trial too, +the patience of duty, ability to wait when in doubt; +in short, we have learned dignity, and he who teaches +us dignity is not a man lightly to be forgotten or disparaged. +I say, therefore, that this answer to Mr. +Arnold, that he was in error, is one which on its face +might prudently be distrusted.</p> +<p>But for other than prudential reasons I incline to +agree with Mr. Arnold’s opinion. Even though I +were not naturally disposed to credit his judgment, +I should be obliged to acknowledge that my own +observations largely coincide with his. In Europe I +think I find beauty more abundant than in America. +Certainly the distinguished objects, the distinguished +persons, whom I go there to see, are more numerous +than those I might by searching find here. I cannot +think this portion of Mr. Arnold’s statement can be +impugned. And must we then accept his conclusion +and agree that your lives, while sheltered in this interesting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +college, are themselves interesting; but that +when you go forth the romance is to pass away? +I do not believe it, because I question the standard +which Mr. Arnold employs. He tells us that the +sources of the interesting are beauty and distinction. +I doubt it. However much delight and refreshment +these may contribute to our lives, I do not believe +they predominantly constitute our interests.</p> +<p>Evidently Mr. Arnold cannot have reached his +opinion through observation, for the commonest facts +of experience confute him. There is in every community +a certain class of persons whose business it +is to discover what people regard as interesting. +These are the newspaper editors; they are paid to +find out for us interesting matters every day. There +is nothing they like better than to get hold of something +interesting which has not been observed before. +Are they then searchers for beauty and distinction? +I should say not. Here are the subjects which these +seekers after interesting things discussed in my +morning paper. There is an account of disturbances +in South America. There is a statement about +Mr. Blaine’s health. There is a report of a prize +fight. There are speculations about the next general +election. There is a description of a fashionable wedding. +These things interest me, and I suspect they +interest the majority of the readers of that paper; +though they can hardly be called beautiful or distinguished. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +Obviously, therefore, if Mr. Arnold had +inspected the actual interests of to-day, he would +have been obliged to recognize some other basis for +them than beauty and distinction.</p> +<p>Yet I suppose all will feel it would be better if +the trivial matters which excite our interest in the +morning journal were of a more beautiful, of a more +distinguished sort. Our interests would be more honorable +then. These things interest merely because +they are facts, not because they are beautiful. A fact +is interesting through being a fact, and this commonest +and most basal of interests Mr. Arnold has overlooked. +He has not perceived that life itself is its +own unceasing interest.</p> +<p>Before we can decide, however, whether he has +overlooked anything more, we must determine what +is meant by beauty. Let us analyze the matter a +little. Let us see if we can detect why the beautiful +and the distinguished are interesting, and still +how we can provide a place for the other interests +which are omitted in his statement. If we should +look at a tree and ask ourselves why this tree is +more beautiful than another, we should probably +find we had thought it so on some such grounds as +these: the total bunch of branches and leaves, that +exquisite green mass sunning itself, is no larger than +can well be supported on the brown trunk. It is +large enough; there is nothing lacking. If it were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +smaller, the office of the trunk would hardly be fulfilled. +If larger, the trunk would be overpowered. +Those branches which extend themselves to the right +adequately balance those which are extended to the +left. Scrutinizing it, we find every leaf in order, +each one ready to aërate its little sap and so conduce +to the life of the whole. There is no decay, +no broken branch. Nothing is deficient, but at the +same time there is nothing superfluous. Each part +ministers to every part. In all parts the tree is proportionate—beautiful, +intrinsically beautiful, because +it is unsuperfluous, unlacking.</p> +<p>And when we turn to other larger, more intricately +beautiful objects, we find the same principle involved. +Fulness of relations among the parts, perfection of +organism, absence of incongruity, constitute the +beauty of the object. Were you ever in Wiltshire +in England, and did you visit the splendid seat of +the Earls of Pembroke, Wilton House? It is a magnificent +pile, designed by Holbein the painter, erected +before Elizabeth began to reign. Its green lawns, +prepared ages ago, were adapted to their positions +originally and perform their ancient offices to-day. +Time has changed its gardens only by making them +more lovely than when they were planned. So harmonious +with one another are grounds and castle +that, looking on the stately dwelling, one imagines +that the Creator himself must have had it in mind in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +his design of the spot. And when you enter, all is +equally congruous. Around the central court runs +the cloistered statuary gallery, out of which open +the several halls. Passing through these, you notice +the portraits not only of past members of the family—men +who have been among the most distinguished +of England’s worthies—but also portraits of the +eminent friends of the Pembrokes, painted by notable +artists who were often themselves also friends +of the family. In the library is shown Sidney’s +“Arcadia,” written in this very garden, with a lock +of Elizabeth’s hair inclosed. In the chief hall a play +of Shakespeare’s is reported to have been performed +by his company. Half a dozen names that shine in +literature lend intellectual glory to the place. But +as you walk from room to room, amazed at the accumulation +of wealth and proud tradition, you perceive +how each casual object makes its separate contribution +to the general impression of stateliness. A +glance from a window discloses an enchanting view: +in the distance, past the cedars, rises the spire of +Salisbury Cathedral, one of the most peaceful and +aspiring in England. All parts—scenery, buildings, +rich possessions, historic heritages—minister to parts. +Romantic imagination is stirred. It is beautiful, +beautiful beyond anything America can show.</p> +<p>And if we turn to that region where beauty is +most subtly embodied, if we turn to human character, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +we find the conditions not dissimilar. The character +which impresses us most is that which has fully organized +its powers, so that every ability finds its +appropriate place without prominence; one with no +false humility and without self-assertion; a character +which cannot be overthrown by petty circumstance, +but, steadfast in itself, no part lacking, no part superfluous, +easily lets its ample functions assist one +another in all that they are summoned to perform. +When we behold a man like this, we say, “This is +what I would be. Here is the goal toward which I +would tend. This man, like Wilton House, like the +beautiful tree, is a finished thing.” It is true when +we turn our attention back and once more criticise, +we see that it is not so. No human character can be +finished. It is its glory that it cannot be. It must +ever press forward; each step reached is but the +vantage-ground for a further step. There is no completeness +in human character—in human character +save one.</p> +<p>And must we then consider human character uninteresting? +According to Mr. Arnold’s standard perhaps +we ought to do so. But through this very case +the narrowness of that standard becomes apparent. +Mr. Arnold rightly perceives that beauty is one of +our higher interests. It certainly is not our only or +our highest, because in that which is most profoundly +interesting, human life, the completeness of parts +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +which constitutes beauty is never reached. There +must obviously be another and a higher source of +interest, one too exalted to be found where awhile +ago I sketched it, in the mere occurrence of a fact. +We cannot say that all events, simply because they +occur, are alike interesting. To find in them an intelligent +interest we must rate their worth. I agree, +accordingly, with Mr. Arnold in thinking that it is +the passion for perfection, the assessment of worths, +which is at the root of all enduring interests. But I +believe that in the history of the world this passion for +perfection, this deepest root of human interests, has +presented itself in two forms. The Greek conceived +it in one way, the Christian has conceived it in another.</p> +<p>It was the office of that astonishing people, the +Greeks, to teach us to honor completeness, the majesty +of the rounded whole. We see this in every +department of their marvellous life. Whenever we +look at a Greek statue, it seems impossible that it +should be otherwise without loss; we cannot imagine +any portion changed; the thing has reached its completeness. +Before it we can only bow and feel at +rest. Just so it is when we examine Greek architecture. +There too we find the same ordered proportion, +the same adjustment of part to part. And +if we turn to Greek literature, the stately symmetry +is no less remarkable. What page of Sophocles +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +could be stricken out? What page—what sentence? +Just enough, not more than enough! The +thought has grown, has asserted its entirety; and +when that entirety has been reached, it has stopped, +delighted with its own perfection. A splendid ideal, +an ideal which never can fail, I am sure, to interest +man so long as he remains intelligent!</p> +<p>And yet this beautiful Greek work shows only one +aspect of the world. It omitted something, it omitted +formative life. Joy in birth, delight in beginnings, +interest in origins,—these things did not belong to +the Greek; they came in with Christianity. It is +Jesus Christ who turns our attention toward growth, +and so teaches us to delight in the imperfect rather +than in the perfect. It is he who, wishing to give to +his disciples a model of what they should be, does not +select the completed man, but takes the little child +and sets him before them and to the supercilious +says, “Take heed that ye despise not one of these +little ones.” He teaches us to <ins title='Was reverenee'>reverence</ins> the beginning +of things. And at first thought it might well +seem that this reverence for the imperfect was a retrogression. +What! is not a consummate man more +admirable than a child? “No,” Jesus answered; +and because he answered so, pity was born. Before +the coming of Jesus Christ, I think we may say that +the sick, the afflicted, the child—shall I not say the +woman?—were but slightly understood. It is because +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +God has come down from heaven, manifesting +even himself in forms of imperfection, it is on +this account that our intellectual horizon has been +enlarged. We may now delight in the lowly, we may +stoop and gather imperfect things and rejoice in +them,—rejoice beyond the old Greek rejoicing.</p> +<p>Yet it is easy to mistake the nature of this change +of standard, and in doing so to run into grave moral +danger. If we content ourselves with the imperfect +rather than with the perfect, we are barbarians. We +are not Christians nor are we Greeks, we are barbarians. +But that is not the spirit of Jesus. He +teaches us to catch the future in the instant, to see +the infinite in the finite, to watch the growth of the +perfect out of the imperfect. And he teaches us that +this delight in progress, in growth, in aspiration, in +completing, may rightly be greater than our exultation +in completeness. In his view the joy of perfecting +is beyond the joy of perfection.</p> +<p>Now I want to be sure that you young women, +who are preparing yourselves here for larger life and +are soon to emerge into the perplexing world, go +forth with clear and Christian purpose. For though +what I have been discussing may appear dry and abstract, +it is an extremely practical matter. Consider +a moment in which direction you are to seek the +interests of your life. Will you demand that the +things about you shall already possess their perfection? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +Will you ask from life that it be completed, +finished, beautiful? If so, you are doomed to dreary +days. Or are you to get your intellectual eyes open, +see beauty in the making, and come to rejoice in it +there rather than after it is made? That is the question +I wish to present to-day; and I shall ask you to +examine several provinces of life and see how different +they appear when surveyed from one point of +view or from the other.</p> +<p>Undoubtedly all of you on leaving here will go +into some home, either the home of your parents or—less +fortunate—some stranger’s home. And when +you come there, I think I can foretell one thing: it +will be a tolerably imperfect place in which you find +yourself. You will notice a great many points in +which it is improvable; that is to say, a great many +respects in which you might properly wish it otherwise. +It will seem to you, I dare say, a little plain, +a little commonplace, compared with your beautiful +college and the college life here. I doubt whether +you will find all the members of your family—dear +though they may be—so wise, so gentle-mannered, +so able to contribute to your intellectual life as are +your companions here. Will you feel then, “Ah! +home is a dull place; I wish I were back in college +again! I think I was made for college life. Possibly +enough I was made for a wealthy life. I am sure I +was made for a comfortable life. But I do not find +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +these things here. I will sit and wish I had them. Of +course I ought not to enjoy a home that is short of +perfection; and I recognize that this is a good way +from complete.” Is this to be your attitude? Or are +you going to say, “How interesting this home! What +a brave struggle the dear people are making with the +resources at their command! What kindness is shown +by my tired mother; how swift she is in finding out +the many small wants of the household! How diligent +my father! Should I, if I had had only their +narrow opportunities, be so intelligent, so kind, so +self-sacrificing as they? What can I do to show them +my gratitude? What can I contribute toward the +furtherance, the enlargement, the perfecting, of this +home?” That is the wise course. Enter this home +not merely as a matter of loving duty, but find in it +also your own strong interests, and learn to say, “This +home is not a perfect home, happily not a perfect +home. I have something here to do. It is far more +interesting than if it were already complete.”</p> +<p>And again, you will not always live in a place so +attractive as Cleveland. There are cities which have +not your beautiful lake, your distant views, your +charming houses excellently shaded with trees. These +things are exceptional and cannot always be yours. +You may be obliged to live in an American town +which appears to you highly unfinished, a town which +constantly suggests that much still remains to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +done. And then are you going to say, “This place is +not beautiful, and I of course am a lover of the beautiful. +How could one so superior as I rest in such +surroundings? I could not respect myself were I +not discontented.” Is that to be your attitude? It +is, I am sorry to think, the attitude of many who go +from our colleges. They have been taught to reverence +perfection, to honor excellence; and instead of +making it their work to carry this excellence forth, +and to be interested in spreading it far and wide +in the world, they sit down and mourn that it has +not yet come. How dull the world would be had it +come! Perfection, beauty? It constitutes a resting-place +for us; it does not constitute our working-place.</p> +<p>I maintain, therefore, in regard to our land as a +whole that there is no other so interesting on the face +of the earth; and I am led to this conviction by the +very reasoning which brought Mr. Arnold to a contrary +opinion. I accept his judgment of the beauty +of America. His premise is correct, but it should +have conducted him to the opposite conclusion. In +America we still are in the making. We are not yet +beautiful and distinguished; and that is why America, +beyond every other country, awakens a noble interest. +The beauty which is in the old lands, and which refreshes +for a season, is after all a species of death. +Those who dwell among such scenes are appeased, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +they are not quickened. Let them keep their past; +we have our future. We may do much. What they +can do is largely at an end.</p> +<p>In literature also I wish to bring these distinctions +before you, these differences of standard; and perhaps +I cannot accomplish this better than by exhibiting +them as they are presented in a few verses from +the poet of the imperfect. I suppose if we try to +mark out with precision the work of Mr. Browning,—I +mean not to mark it out as the Browning societies +do, but to mark it out with precision,—we might say +that its distinctive feature is that he has guided himself +by the principle on which I have insisted: he has +sought for beauty where there is seeming chaos; he +has loved growth, has prized progress, has noted the +advance of the spiritual, the pressing on of the finite +soul through hindrance to its junction with the infinite. +This it is which has inspired his somewhat +crabbed verses, and has made men willing to undergo +the labor of reading them, that they too may partake +of his insight. In one of his poems—one which +seems to me to contain some of his sublimest as well +as some of his most commonplace lines, the poem on +“Old Pictures in Florence,”—he discriminates between +Greek and Christian art in much the same way +I have done. In “Greek Art,” Mr. Browning says:—</p> +<div class='poem' style='max-width: 23em'><div class='stanza'> +<p>You saw yourself as you wished you were,</p> +<p class='indent2'>As you might have been, as you cannot be;</p> +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></p> +<p>Earth here, rebuked by Olympus there;</p> +<p class='indent2'>And grew content in your poor degree</p> +<p>With your little power, by those statues’ godhead,</p> +<p class='indent2'>And your little scope, by their eyes’ full sway,</p> +<p>And your little grace, by their grace embodied,</p> +<p class='indent2'>And your little date, by their forms that stay.</p> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<p>You would fain be kinglier, say, than I am?</p> +<p class='indent2'>Even so, you will not sit like Theseus.</p> +<p>You would prove a model? The son of Priam</p> +<p class='indent2'>Has yet the advantage in arms’ and knees’ use.</p> +<p>You’re wroth—can you slay your snake like Apollo?</p> +<p class='indent2'>You’re grieved—still Niobe’s the grander!</p> +<p>You live—there’s the Racers’ frieze to follow:</p> +<p class='indent2'>You die—there’s the dying Alexander.</p> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<p>So, testing your weakness by their strength,</p> +<p class='indent2'>Your meagre charms by their rounded beauty,</p> +<p>Measured by Art in your breadth and length,</p> +<p class='indent2'>You learned—to submit is a mortal’s duty.</p> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<p>Growth came when, looking your last on them all,</p> +<p class='indent2'>You turned your eyes inwardly one fine day</p> +<p>And cried with a start—What if we so small</p> +<p class='indent2'>Be greater and grander the while than they!</p> +<p>Are they perfect of lineament, perfect of stature?</p> +<p class='indent2'>In both, of such lower types are we</p> +<p>Precisely because of our wider nature;</p> +<p class='indent2'>For time, theirs—ours, for eternity.</p> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<p>To-day’s brief passion limits their range;</p> +<p class='indent2'>It seethes with the morrow for us and more.</p> +<p>They are perfect—how else? they shall never change:</p> +<p class='indent2'>We are faulty—why not? we have time in store.</p> +<p>The Artificer’s hand is not arrested</p> +<p class='indent2'>With us; we are rough-hewn, no-wise polished:</p> +<p>They stand for our copy, and once invested</p> +<p class='indent2'>With all they can teach, we shall see them abolished.</p> +</div></div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></div> +<p>You will notice that in this subtle study Mr. Browning +points out how through contact with perfection +there may come content with our present lot. This +I call the danger of perfection, our possible belittlement +through beauty. For in the lives of us all +there should be a divine discontent,—not devilish discontent, +but divine discontent,—a consciousness that +life may be larger than we have yet attained, that we +are to press beyond what we have reached, that joy +lies in the future, in that which has not been found, +rather than in the realized present. And it seems to +me if ever a people were called on to understand this +glory of the imperfect, it is we of America, it is you +of the Middle West; it is especially you who are +undertaking here the experiment of a woman’s college. +You are at the beginning, and that fact should +lend an interest to your work which cannot so readily +be realized in our older institutions. As you look +eastward upon my own huge university, Harvard +University, it probably appears to you singularly +beautiful, reverend in its age, magnificent in its endowments, +equable in its working; perhaps you contemplate +it as nearing perfection, and contrast your +incipient college with it as hardly deserving the name. +You are entirely mistaken. Harvard University, to +its glory be it said, is enormously unfinished; it is +a great way from perfect; it is full of blemishes. +We are tinkering at it all the time; and if it were not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +so, I for one should decline to be connected with it. +Its interest for me would cease. You are to start +free from some trammels that we feel. Because we +have so large a past laid upon us we have not some +freedoms of growth, some opportunities of enlargement, +which you possess. Accordingly, in your very +experiment here you have a superb illustration of +the principle I am trying to explain. This young +and imperfect college should interest you who are +members of it; it should interest this intelligent city. +Wise patrons should find here a germ capable of such +broad and interesting growth as may well call out +their heartiest enthusiasm.</p> +<p>If then the modes of accepting the passion for +perfection are so divergent as I have indicated, is it +possible to suggest methods by which we may discipline +ourselves in the nobler way of seeking the interests +of life?—I mean by taking part with things +in their beginnings, learning to reverence them there, +and so attaining an interest which will continually +be supported and carried forward. You may look +with some anxiety upon the doctrine which I have +laid down. You may say, “But beauty is seductive; +beauty allures me. I know that the imperfect in its +struggle toward perfection is the nobler matter. I +know that America is, for him who can see all things, +a more interesting land than Spain. Yes, I know +this, but I find it hard to feel it. My strong temptation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +is to lie and dream in romance, in ideal perfection. +By what means may I discipline myself out of +this degraded habit and bring myself into the higher +life, so that I shall always be interested in progress, +in the future rather than in the past, in the on-going +rather than in the completed life?” I cannot give +an exact and final receipt for this better mind. A +persistently studied experience must be the teacher. +To-day you may understand what I say, you may +resolve to live according to the methods I approve. +But you may be sure that to-morrow you will need +to learn it all over again. And yet I think I can +mention several forms of discipline, as I may call +them. I can direct your attention to certain modes +by which you may instruct yourselves how to take +an interest in the imperfect thing, and still keep that +interest an honorable one.</p> +<p>In my judgment, then, your first care should be to +learn to observe. A simple matter—one, I dare say, +which it will seem to you difficult to avoid. You +have a pair of eyes; how can you fail to observe? +Ah! but eyes can only look, and that is not observing. +We must not rest in looking, but must penetrate +into things, if we would find out what is there. +And to find this out is worth while, for everything +when observed is of immense interest. There is no +object so remote from human life that when we come +to study it we may not detect within its narrow compass +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +illuminating and therefore interesting matter. +But it makes a great difference whether we do thus +really observe, whether we hold attention to the +thing in hand, and see what it contains. Once, after +puzzling long over the charm of Homer, I applied to +a learned friend and said to him, “Can you tell me +why Homer is so interesting? Why can’t you and I +write as he wrote? Why is it that his art is lost, +and that to-day it is impossible for us to awaken an +interest at all comparable to his?”—“Well,” said +my friend, “I have often meditated on that, but it +seems to come to about this: Homer looked long at +a thing. Why,” said he, “do you know that if you +should hold up your thumb and look at it long +enough, you would find it immensely interesting?” +Homer looks a great while at his thumb. He sees +precisely the thing he is dealing with. He does not +confuse it with anything else. It is sharp to him; +and because it is sharp to him it stands out sharply +for us over thousands of years. Have you acquired +this art, or do you hastily glance at insignificant +objects? Do you see the thing exactly as it is? Do +you strip away from it your own likings and dislikings, +your own previous notions of what it ought to +be? Do you come face to face with things? If you +do, the hardest situation in life may well be to you a +delight. For you will not regard hardships, but only +opportunities. Possibly you may even feel, “Yes, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +here are just the difficulties I like to explore. How +can one be interested in easy things? The hard +things of life are the ones for which we ought to give +thanks.” So we may feel if we have made the cool +and hardy temper of the observer our own, if we have +learned to put ourselves into a situation and to understand +it on all sides. Why, the things on which we +have thus concentrated attention become our permanent +interests. For example, unluckily when I was +trained I was not disciplined in botany. I cannot, +therefore, now observe the rose. Some of you can, for +you have been studying botany here. I have to look +stupidly on the total beauty of the lovely object; I +can see it only as a whole, while you, fine observer, +who have trained your powers to pierce it, can comprehend +its very structure and see how marvellously +the blooming thing is put together. My eyes were +dulled to that long ago; I cannot observe it. Beware, +do not let yourselves grow dull. Observe, observe, +observe in every direction! Keep your eyes open. +Go forward, understanding that the world was made +for your knowledge, that you have the right to enter +into and possess it.</p> +<p>And then besides, you need to train yourselves to +sympathize with that which lies beyond you. It is +easy to sympathize with that which lies within you. +Many persons go through life sympathizing with +themselves incessantly. What unhappy persons! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +How unfit for anything important! They are full of +themselves and answer their own motion, while there +beyond them lies all the wealthy world in which they +might be sharers. For sympathy is feeling with,—it +is the identification of ourself with that which at +present is not ourself. It is going forth and joining +that which we behold, not standing aloof and merely +observing, as I said at first. When we observe, the +object we observe is alien to us; when we sympathize, +we identify ourselves with it. You may go into a +home and observe, and you will make every person +in that home wretched. But go into a home and sympathize, +find out what lies beyond you there, see how +differently those persons are thinking and feeling +from the ways in which you are accustomed to think +and feel; yet notice how imperfect you are in yourself, +and how important it is that persons should be +fashioned thus different from you if even your own +completion is to come; then, I say, you will find +yourself becoming large in your own being, and a +large benefactor of others.</p> +<p>Do not stunt sympathy, then. Do not allow walls +to rise up and hem it in. Never say to yourself, +“This is my way; I don’t do so and so. I know only +this and that; I don’t want to know anything else. +You other people may have that habit, but these are +my habits, and I always do thus and thus.” Do not +say that. Nothing is more immoral than moral psychology. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +You should have no interest in yourself as +you stand; because a larger selfhood lies beyond you, +and you should be going forth and claiming your +heritage there. Do not stand apart from the movements +of the country,—the political, charitable, +religious, scientific, literary movements,—however +distastefully they may strike you. Identify yourself +with them, sympathize with them. They all have a +noble side; seek it out and claim it as your own. +Throw yourself into all life and make it nobly yours.</p> +<p>But I am afraid it would be impossible for you +thus to observe, thus to sympathize, unless you bring +within your imperfect self just grounds of self-respect. +You must contribute to things if you would draw from +things. You must already have acquired some sort +of excellence in order to detect larger excellence elsewhere. +You should therefore have made yourself the +master of something which you can do, and do on the +whole better than anybody else. That is the moral +aspect of competition, that one person can do a certain +thing best and so it is given him to do. Some of +you who are going out into the world before long will, +I fear, be astonished to find that the world is already +full. It has no place for you; it never anticipated +your coming and it has reserved for you no corner. +Your only means of gaining a corner will be by doing +something better than the people who are already +there. Then they will make you a place. And that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +is what you should be considering here. You should +be training yourself to do something well, it really +does not matter much what. Can you make dresses +well? Can you cook a good loaf of bread? Can you +write a poem or run a typewriter? Can you do anything +well? Are you a master somewhere? If you +are, the world will have a place for you; and more +than that, you will have within yourself just grounds +for self-respect.</p> +<p>To sum up, what I have been saying throughout +this address merely amounts to this: that the imperfect +thing—the one thing of genuine interest in all +the world—gets its right to be respected only through +its connection with the totality of things. Do not, +then, when you leave college say to yourself, “I know +Greek. That is a splendid thing to know. These +people whom I am meeting do not know it and are +obviously of a lower grade than I.” That will not +be self-respectful, because it shows that you have not +understood your proper place. You should respect +yourself as a part of all, and not as of independent +worth. To call this wide world our own larger self +is not too extravagant an expression. But if we are +to count it so, then we must count the particular +thing which we are capable of doing as merely our +special contribution to the great self. And we must +understand that many are making similar contributions. +What I want you to feel, therefore, is the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +profound conception of mutual helpfulness and resulting +individual dignity which St. Paul has set +forth, according to which each of us is performing a +special function in the common life, and that life of +all is recognized as the divine life, the manifestation +of the life of the Father. When you have come to +that point, when you have seen in the imperfect a +portion, an aspect, of the total, perfect, divine life, +then I am not afraid life will be uninteresting. Indeed +I would say to every one who goes from this +college, you can count with confidence on a life which +shall be vastly more interesting beyond the college +walls than ever it has proved here, if you have once +acquired the art of penetrating into the imperfect, and +finding in limited, finite life the infinite life. “To +apprehend thus, draws us a profit from all things we +see.”</p> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +<a name='II_HARVARD_PAPERS' id='II_HARVARD_PAPERS'></a> +<h2>II +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />HARVARD PAPERS</span></h2> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div> +<p>The following papers relate primarily to Harvard University +and are chiefly of historic interest. But since out +of that centre of investigation and criticism has come a +large part of what is significant in American education, +the story of its experiences will be found pretty generally +instructive for whoever would teach or learn.</p> +<p>The first three papers were published in the Andover +Review for 1885, 1886, and 1887, and are now printed +without alteration. Time has changed most of the facts +recorded in these papers, and the University is now a different +place from the one depicted here. An educational +revolution was then in progress, more influential than any +which has ever visited our country before or since. Harvard +was its leader, and had consequently become an object +of suspicion through wide sections of the land. I was one +of those who sought to allay those suspicions and to clear +up some of the mental confusions in which they arose. To-day +Harvard’s cause is won. All courses leading to the +Bachelor’s degree throughout the country now recognize +the importance of personal choice. But the history of the +struggle exhibits with peculiar distinctness a conflict which +perpetually goes on between two currents of human progress, +a conflict whose opposing ideals are almost equally +necessary and whose champions never fail alike to awaken +sympathy. As a result of this struggle our children enjoy +an ampler heritage than was open to us their fathers. Do +they comprehend their added wealth and turn it to the +high uses for which it was designed? In good measure +they do. A brief consideration of the ethical aims which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +have shaped the modern college may enable them to do +so still more.</p> +<p>Appended to these are two papers: one on college +economics in 1887, describing the first attempt ever made, +I believe, to ascertain from students themselves the cost +of the higher education; the other setting forth a picturesque +and noble figure who belonged to the days before +the Flood, when the prescribed system was still supreme.</p> +<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0003' id='Footnote_0003'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0003'><span class='label'>[3]</span></a> +<p>Delivered at the first commencement of the Woman’s College +of Western Reserve University.</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +<a name='VIII_THE_NEW_EDUCATION' id='VIII_THE_NEW_EDUCATION'></a> +<h3>VIII +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />THE NEW EDUCATION</span></h3> +</div> +<p>During the year 1884-85 the freshmen of Harvard +College chose a majority of their studies. Up +to that time no college, so far as I know, allowed its +first year’s men any choice whatever. Occasionally, +one modern language has been permitted rather +than another; and where colleges are organized by +“schools,”—that is, with independent groups of +studies each leading to a different degree,—the +freshman by entering one school turns away from +others, and so exercises a kind of selection. But with +these possible exceptions, the same studies have always +been required of all the members of a given +freshman class. Under the new Harvard rules, but +seven sixteenths of the work of the freshman year +will be prescribed; the entire remainder of the college +course, with the exception of a few exercises in +English composition, will be elective. A fragment of +prescribed work so inconsiderable is likely soon to +disappear. At no distant day the Harvard student +will mark out for himself his entire curriculum from +entrance to graduation.</p> +<p>Even if this probable result should not follow, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +present step toward it is too significant to be passed +over in silence, for it indicates that after more than +half a century of experiment the Harvard Faculty +are convinced of the worth of the elective system. +In their eyes, option is an engine of efficiency. People +generally treat it as a concession. Freedom is confessedly +agreeable; restive boys like it; let them have +as much as will not harm them. But the Harvard +authorities mean much more than this. They have +thrown away that established principle of American +education, that every head should contain a given +kind of knowledge; and having already organized +their college from the top almost to the bottom on a +wholly different plan, they now declare that their +new principle has been proved so safe and effective +that it should supplant the older method, even in +that year when students are acknowledged to be +least capable of self-direction.</p> +<p>On what facts do they build such confidence? +What do they mean by calling their elective principle +a system? Does not the new method, while +rendering education more agreeable, tend to lower +its standard? Or, if it succeeds in stimulating technical +scholarship, is it equally successful in fostering +character and in forming vigorous and law-revering +men? These questions I propose to answer, for +they are questions which every friend of Harvard, +and indeed of American education, wishes people +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +pressingly to ask. Those most likely to ask them are +quiet, God-fearing parents, who, having bred their +sons to a sense of duty, expect college life to broaden +and consolidate the discipline of the home. These +are the parents every college wants to reach. Their +sons, whether rich or poor, are the bone and sinew +of the land. In my judgment the new education, +once understood, will appeal to them more strongly +than to any other class.</p> +<p>But it is not easy to understand it. My own understanding +of it has been of slow growth. When, +in 1870, I left Andover Seminary and came to teach +at Harvard, I distrusted the more extreme developments +of the elective system. Up to 1876 I opposed +the introduction of voluntary attendance at recitations. +Not until four years ago did I begin to favor +the remission of Greek in the requisites for entrance. +In all these cases my party was defeated; my fears +proved groundless; what I wished to accomplish was +effected by means which I had opposed. I am therefore +that desirable persuader, the man who has himself +been persuaded. The misconceptions through +which I passed, I am sure beset others. I want to +clear them away, and to present some of the reasons +which have turned me from an adherent of the old to +an apostle of the new faith.</p> +<p>An elementary misconception deserves a passing +word. The new system is not a mere cutting of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +straps; it is a system. Its student is still under bonds, +bonds more compulsive than the old, because fitted +with nicer adjustment to each one’s person. On +H. M. S. Pinafore the desires of every sailor receive +instant recognition. The new education will not agree +to that. It remains authoritative. It will not subject +its student to alien standards, nor treat his deliberate +wishes as matters of no consequence; but it does insist +on that authority which reveals to a man his own +better purposes and makes them firmer and finer than +they could have become if directed by himself alone. +What the amount of a young man’s study shall be, +and what its grade of excellence, a body of experts +decides. The student himself determines its specific +topic.</p> +<p>Everybody knows how far this is from a prescribed +system; not so many see that it is at a +considerable remove from unregulated or nomadic +study. An American at a German university, or at +a summer school of languages, applies for no degree +and is under no restraint. He chooses whatever +studies he likes, ten courses or five or one; he works +on them as much as suits his need or his caprice; he +submits what he does to no test; he receives no mark; +the time he wastes is purely his own concern. Study +like this, roving study, is not systematic at all. It +is advantageous to adult students,—to those alone +whose wills are steady, and who know their own +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +wants precisely. Most colleges draw a sharp distinction +between the small but important body of +students of this class—special students, as they are +called—and the great company of regulars. These +latter are candidates for a degree, are under constant +inspection, and are moved along the line only as they +attain a definite standard in both the quantity and +quality of their work. After accomplishing the +studies of the freshman year, partly prescribed and +partly elective, a Harvard student must pass successfully +four elective courses in each of his subsequent +three years. By “a course” is understood a +single line of study receiving three hours a week of +instruction; fifty per cent of a maximum mark must +be won in each year in order to pass. Throwing out +the freshman year, the precise meaning of the Harvard +B.A. degree is therefore this: its holder has +presented twelve courses of study selected by himself, +and has mastered them at least half perfectly.</p> +<p>Here, then, is the essence of the elective system,—fixed +quantity and quality of study, variable topic. +Work and moderate excellence are matters within +everybody’s reach. It is not unfair to demand them +of all. If a man cannot show success somewhere, he +is stamped <i>ipso facto</i> a worthless fellow. But into the +specific topic of work an element of individuality +enters. To succeed in a particular branch of study +requires fitness, taste, volition,—incalculable factors, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +known to nobody but the man himself. Here, +if anywhere, is the proper field for choice; and all +American colleges are now substantially agreed in +accepting the elective principle in this sense and applying +it within the limits here marked out. It is an +error to suppose that election is the hasty “craze” +of a single college. Every senior class in New England +elects a portion of its studies. Every important +New England college allows election in the junior +year. Amherst, Bowdoin, Yale, and Harvard allow +it in the sophomore. Outside of New England the +case is the same. It is true, all the colleges except +Harvard retain a modicum of prescribed study even +in the senior year; but election in some degree is admitted +everywhere, and the tendency is steadily in +the direction of a wider choice.</p> +<p>The truth is, Harvard has introduced the principle +more slowly than other colleges. She was merely +one of the earliest to begin. In 1825, on the recommendation +of Judge Story, options were first allowed, +in modern languages. Twenty years of experiment +followed. In 1846 electives were finally established +for seniors and juniors; in 1867 for sophomores; +in 1884 for freshmen. But the old method was abandoned +so slowly that as late as 1871 some prescribed +study remained for seniors, till 1879 for juniors, and +till 1884 for sophomores. During this long and unnoticed +period, careful comparison was made between +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +the new and old methods. A mass of facts +was accumulated, which subsequently rendered possible +an extremely rapid adoption of the system by +other colleges. Public confidence was tested. Comparing +the new Harvard with the old, it is plain +enough that a revolution has taken place; but it is +a revolution like that in the England of Victoria, +wrought not by sudden shock, but quietly, considerately, +conservatively, inevitably. Those who have +watched the college have approved; the time of +transition has been a time of unexampled prosperity. +For the last fifteen years the gifts to the University +have averaged $250,000 a year. The steady increase +in students may be seen at a glance by dividing the +last twenty-five years into five-year periods, and noting +the average number of undergraduates in each: +1861-65, 423; 1866-70, 477; 1871-75, 657; 1876-80, +808; 1881-85, 873.</p> +<p>These facts are sufficient to show that Harvard +has reached her present great prosperity by becoming +the pioneer in a general educational movement. +What made the movement general was the dread +of flimsy study. Our world is larger than the one our +grandfathers inhabited; it is more minutely subdivided, +more finely related, more subtly and broadly +known. The rise of physical science and the enlargement +of humanistic interests oblige the college of +to-day to teach elaborately many topics which formerly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +were not taught at all. Not so many years ago +a liberal education prepared men almost exclusively +for the four professions,—preaching, teaching, +medicine, and law. In the first century of its existence +one half the graduates of Harvard became +ministers. Of the graduates of the last ten years a +full third have entered none of the four professions. +With a narrow field of knowledge, and with students +who required no great variety of training, the task +of a college was simple. A single programme decently +covered the needs of all. But as the field of +knowledge widened, and men began to notice a +difference between its contents and those of the +college curriculum, an effort was made to enlarge +the latter by adding subjects from the former. +Modern languages crept in, followed by sciences, +political economy, new departments of history, literature, +art, philosophy. For the most part, these +were added to the studies already taught. But the +length of college days is limited. The life of man +has not extended with the extension of science. To +multiply subjects was soon found equivalent to +cheapening knowledge. Where three subjects are +studied in place of one, each is pushed only one third +as far. A crowded curriculum is a curriculum of superficialities, +where men are forever occupied with +alphabets and multiplication-tables,—elementary +matters, containing little mental nutriment. Thoroughgoing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +discipline, the acquisition of habits of +intellectual mastery, calls for acquaintance with +knowledge in its higher ranges, and there is no way +of reaching these remoter regions during the brief +season of college life except by dividing the field and +pressing along paths where personal friction is least. +Accordingly, alternative options began to be allowed, +at first between the new subjects introduced, then +between these and the old ones. But in this inevitable +admission of option a new principle was introduced +whose germinal force could not afterwards +be stayed. The old conception had been that there +were certain matters a knowledge of which constituted +a liberal education. Compared with the possession +of these, the temper of the receiving mind +was a secondary affair. This view became untenable. +Under the new conditions, college faculties were +forced to recognize personal aptitudes, and to stake +intellectual gains upon them. In assessing the worth +of studies, attention was thus withdrawn from their +subject-matter and transferred to the response they +called forth in the apprehender. Hence arose a new +ideal of education, in which temper of mind had +preëminence over <i>quæsita</i>, the guidance of the powers +of knowing over the store of matters known. The +new education has accordingly passed through two +stages of development: first, in order to avoid superficiality +when knowledge was coming in like a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +flood, it was found necessary to admit choice; secondly, +in the very necessity of this admission was +disclosed a more spiritual ideal of the relation of +the mind of man to knowledge.</p> +<p>And this new ideal, I hold, should now commend +itself not as a thing good enough if collateral, but +as a principle, organic and exclusive. To justify its +dominance a single compendious reason is sufficient: +it uplifts character as no other training can, and +through influence on character it ennobles all methods +of teaching and discipline. We say to our student +at Harvard, “Study Greek, German, history, +or botany,—what you will; the one thing of consequence +is that you should will to study something.” +The moral factor is thus put forward, where it belongs. +The will is honored as of prime consequence. +Other systems treat it as a merely concurrent and +auxiliar force. They try to smuggle it into operation +wrapped in a mass of matter-of-course performances. +It is the distinctive merit of the elective system that +it strips off disguises, places the great facts of the +moral life in the foreground, forces the student to be +conscious of what he is doing, permits him to become +a partaker in his own work, and makes him +perceive that gains and losses are immediately connected +with a volitional attitude. When such a consciousness +is aroused, every step in knowledge becomes +a step toward maturity. There is no sudden +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +transformation, but the boy comes gradually to perceive +that in the determination of the will are found +the promise and potency of every form of life. Many +people seem to suppose that at some epoch in the +life of a young man the capacity to choose starts up +of itself, ready-made. It is not so. Choice, like other +human powers, needs practice for strength. To learn +how to choose, we must choose. Keep a boy from +exercising his will during the formative period from +eighteen to twenty-two, and you turn him into the +world a child when by years he should be a man. +To permit choice is dangerous; but not to permit it +is more dangerous; for it renders dependency habitual, +places outside the character those springs of +action which should be set within it, treats personal +adhesion as of little account, and through anxiety +to shield a young life from evil cuts it off from opportunities +of virile good. Even when successful, the +directive process breeds an excellence not to be desired. +Plants and stones commit no errors. They +are under a prescribed system and follow given +laws. Personal man is in continual danger, for to +self-direction is attached the prerogative of sin. For +building up a moral manhood, the very errors of +choice are serviceable.</p> +<p>I am not describing theoretic advantages. A manlier +type of character actually appears as the elective +principle extends. The signs of the better life are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +not easy to communicate to those who have not lived +in the peculiar world of a college. A greater ease in +uprightness, a quicker response to studious appeal, +a deeper seriousness, still keeping relish for merriment, +a readier amenability to considerations of +order, an increase of courtesy, a growing disregard +of coarseness and vice, a decay of the boyish fancy +that it is girlish to show enthusiasm,—tendencies +in these directions, hardly perceptible to others, +gladden the watchful heart of a teacher and assure +him that his work is not returning to him void. Every +company of young men has a notion of what it is +“gentlemanly” to do. Into this current ideal the +most artificial and incongruous elements enter. +Perhaps it is counted “good form” to haze a freshman, +to wear the correctest cut of trousers, to have a +big biceps muscle, or to be reputed a man of brains. +Whatever the notion, it is allegiance to some such +blind ideal, rather than the acceptance of abstract +principles of conduct, which guides a young man’s +life. To change ever so little these influential ideals +is the ambition of the educator; but they are persistent +things, held with the amazing conservatism +of youth. When I say that a better tone prevails as +the elective system takes root, I mean that I find the +word “gentleman,” as it drops from student mouths, +enlarging and deepening its meaning from year to +year, departing from its usage as a term of outward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +description and drawing to itself qualities more interior. +Direct evidence on a matter so elusive can +hardly be given, but I can throw a few sidelights upon +it. Hazing, window-smashing, disturbing a lecture-room, +are things of the past. The office of proctor—the +literary policeman of the olden time—has +become a sinecure. Several years ago the Faculty +awarded Honorable Mention at graduation to students +who attained a high rank in three or more courses +of a single department. The honor was not an exalted +one, but being well within the powers of all it soon +became “not quite the thing” to graduate without +it. In the last senior class 91 men out of 191 received +Honorable Mention. This last fact shows that a decent +scholarship has become reputable. But more than +this is true: the rank which is reckoned decent scholarship +is steadily rising. I would not overstate the improvement. +The scale of marking itself may have risen +slightly. But taking the central scholar of each class +during the last ten years,—the scholar, that is, who +stands midway between the head and the foot,—this +presumably average person has received the following +marks, the maximum being 100:—</p> +<table border="2" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Student Data"> +<tr><td align="center"><b>YEAR</b></td><td align="center"><b>1874-75</b></td><td align="center"><b>1875-76</b></td><td align="center"><b>1876-77</b></td><td align="center"><b>1877-78</b></td><td align="center"><b>1878-79</b></td><td align="center"><b>1879-80</b></td><td align="center"><b>1880-81</b></td><td align="center"><b>1881-82</b></td><td align="center"><b>1882-83</b></td><td align="center"><b>1883-84</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Fresh.</td><td align="right">59</td><td align="right">55</td><td align="right">57</td><td align="right">56</td><td align="right">62</td><td align="right">62</td><td align="right">65</td><td align="right">67</td><td align="right">64</td><td align="right">63</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Soph.</td><td align="right">59</td><td align="right">64</td><td align="right">63</td><td align="right">65</td><td align="right">67</td><td align="right">68</td><td align="right">70</td><td align="right">69</td><td align="right">69</td><td align="right">68</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Jun.</td><td align="right">67</td><td align="right">65</td><td align="right">66</td><td align="right">67</td><td align="right">70</td><td align="right">68</td><td align="right">72</td><td align="right">75</td><td align="right">72</td><td align="right">72</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sen.</td><td align="right">67</td><td align="right">70</td><td align="right">70</td><td align="right">73</td><td align="right">76</td><td align="right">73</td><td align="right">77</td><td align="right">75</td><td align="right">79</td><td align="right">81</td></tr> +</table> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span></div> +<p>It will be observed that the marks in this table +become higher as the student approaches the end +of his course and reaches the years where the elective +principle is least restricted. Let the eye pass +from the left upper corner of the table to the right +lower corner and take in the full significance of a +change which has transformed freshmen, doomed to +prescribed studies and half of them ranking below +sixty per cent, into seniors so energetic that half of +them win four fifths of a perfect mark in four electives. +It is not only the poor who are affected in this +way. About half the men who appear on the Rank +List each year receive no pecuniary aid, and are +probably not needy men.</p> +<p>But it may be suspected that high marks mean +easy studies. The many different lines of work cannot +be equally severe, and it is said that those which +call for least exertion will be sure to prove the favorites. +As this charge of “soft” courses is the stock +objection to the elective system, I shall be obliged to +examine it somewhat minutely. Like most of the +popular objections, it rests on an <i>a priori</i> assumption +that thus things must be. Statistics all run the other +way. Yet I am not surprised that people believe it. +I believed it once myself when I knew nothing but +prescribed systems. Under these, it certainly is true +that ease is the main factor in making a study popular. +When choice is permitted, the factor of interest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +gets freer play, and exerts an influence that would +not be anticipated by those who have never seen it +in operation. Severe studies are often highly popular +if the subject is attractive and the teaching clear. +Here is a list of the fifteen courses which in 1883-84 +(the last year for which returns are complete) contained +the largest numbers of seniors and juniors, +those classes being at that time the only ones which +had no prescribed studies: Mill’s political economy, +125 seniors and juniors; European history from the +middle of the eighteenth century, 102; history of +ancient art, 80; comparative zoölogy, 58; political +and constitutional history of the United States, 56; +psychology, 52; geology, 47; constitutional government +of England and the United States, 45; advanced +geology, with field work, 43; Homer, sixteen books, +40; ethics, 38; logic, and introduction to philosophy, +38; Shakespeare, six plays, 37; economic history, +advanced course, 36; legal history of England to +the sixteenth century, 35. In these years the senior +and junior classes together contained 404 men, who +chose four electives apiece. In all, therefore, 1616 +choices were made. The above list shows 832; so +that, as nearly as may be, one half of the total work +of two years is here represented. The other half was +devoted to interests more special, which were pursued +in smaller companies.</p> +<p>Are these choices unwise? Are they not the studies +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +which should largely occupy a young man’s thoughts +toward the close of his college life? They are the +ones most frequently set for the senior and junior +years by colleges which retain prescribed studies. +From year to year choices differ a little. The courses +at the lower end of the list may give place to others +which do not appear here. I print the list simply to +indicate the general character of the studies elected. +In it appears only one out of all the modern languages, +and that, too, a course in pure literature in which +the marking is not reputed tender. Another year a +course of French or German might come in; but +ordinarily—except when chosen by specialists—the +languages, modern and ancient, are elected most +largely during the sophomore year. Following directly +the prescribed linguistic studies of the freshman +year, they are deservedly among the most popular, +though not the easiest, courses. In nearly half +the courses here shown no text-book is used, and the +amount of reading necessary for getting an average +mark is large. A shelf of books representing original +authorities is reserved by the instructor at the Library, +and the pupil is sent there to prepare his work.</p> +<p>How, it will be asked, are choices so judicious +secured? Simply by making them deliberate. Last +June studies were chosen for the coming year. During +the previous month students were discussing +with one another what their electives should be. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +How this or that course is conducted, what are the +peculiarities of its teacher, what is the proportion +in it between work given and gains had, are matters +which then interest the inhabitants of Hollis and +Holyoke as stocks interest Wall Street. Most students, +too, have some intimacy with one or another +member of the Faculty, to whom they are in the +habit of referring perplexities. This advice is now +sought, and often discreetly rejected. The Elective +Pamphlet is for a time the best-read book in college. +The perplexing question is, What courses to give up? +All find too many which they wish to take. The +pamphlet of this year offers 189 courses, divided among +twenty departments. The five modern languages, +for example, offer, all told, 34 different courses; +Sanskrit, Persian, Assyrian, Hebrew, and Arabic, +14; Greek and Latin, 18 each; natural history, 19; +physics and chemistry, 18; mathematics, 18; history +and philosophy, 12 each; the fine arts, including +music, 11; political economy, 7; Roman law, 2. +These numbers will show the range of choice; on +its extent a great deal of the efficiency of the system +depends.<a name='FNanchor_0004' id='FNanchor_0004'></a><a href='#Footnote_0004' class='fnanchor'>[4]</a> After the electives are chosen and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +reported in writing to the Dean, the long vacation +begins, when plans of study come under the scrutiny +of parents, of the parish minister, or of the college +graduate who lives in the next street. Until September +21, any elective may be changed on notice sent to +the Dean. During the first ten days of the term, no +changes are allowed. This is a time of trial, when one +sees for himself his chosen studies. Afterwards, for +a short time, changes are easy, if the instructors +consent. For the remainder of the year no change +is possible, unless the reasons for change appear +to the Dean important. Other restrictions on the +freedom of choice will readily be understood without +explanation. Advanced studies cannot be taken +till preliminary ones are passed. Notices are published +by the French and German departments that +students who elect those languages must be placed +where proficiency fits them to go. Courses especially +technical in character are marked with a star +in the Elective Pamphlet, and cannot be chosen till +the instructor is consulted.</p> +<p>By means like these the Faculty try to prevent the +wasting of time over unprofitable studies. Of course +they do not succeed. I should roughly guess that a +quarter, possibly a third, of the choices made might +be improved. This estimate is based on the answers +I have received to a question put to some fifty +recent graduates: “In the light of your present +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +experience, how many of your electives would you +change?” I seldom find a man who would not +change some; still more rarely one who would change +one half. As I look back on my own college days, +spent chiefly on prescribed studies, I see that to make +these serve my needs more than half should have been +different. There was Anglo-Saxon, for example, +which was required of all, no English literature being +permitted. A course in advanced chemical physics, +serviceable no doubt to some of my classmates, came +upon me prematurely, and stirred so intense an aversion +to physical study that subsequent years were +troubled to overcome it. One meagre meal of philosophy +was perhaps as much as most of us seniors +could digest, but I went away hungry for more. I +loved Greek, but for two years I was subject to the +instructions of a certain professor, now dead, who +was one of the most learned scholars and unprofitable +teachers I ever knew. Of the studies which +brought me benefit, few did so in any vigorous fashion. +Every reader will parallel my experience from his own. +Prescribed studies may be ill-judged or ill-adapted, +ill-timed or ill-taught, but none the less inexorably +they fall on just and unjust. The wastes of choice +chiefly affect the shiftless and the dull, men who cannot +be harmed much by being wasted. The wastes of +prescription ravage the energetic, the clear-sighted, +the original,—the very classes who stand in greatest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +need of protection. What I would assert, therefore, +is not that in the elective system we have discovered +the secret of stopping educational waste. +That will go on as long as men need teaching. I +simply hold that the monstrous and peculiarly pernicious +wastes of the old system are now being reduced +to a minimum. Select your cloth discreetly, +order the best tailor in town to make it up, and you +will still require patience for many misfits; but they +will be fewer, at any rate, than when garments are +served out to you and the whole regiment by the +government quartermaster.</p> +<p>Nobody who has taught both elective and prescribed +studies need be told how the instruction in +the two cases differs. With perfunctory students, a +teacher is concerned with devices for forcing his +pupils onward. Teaching becomes a secondary affair; +the time for it is exhausted in questioning +possible shirks. Information must be elicited, not +imparted. The text-book, with its fixed lessons, is a +thing of consequence. It is the teacher’s business to +watch his pupils, to see that they carry off the requisite +knowledge; their business, then, it soon becomes +to try to escape without it. Between teacher and +scholar there goes on an ignoble game of matching +wits, in which the teacher is smart if he can catch +a boy, and the boy is smart if he can know nothing +without being found out. Because of this supposed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +antagonism of interests American higher education +seldom escapes an air of unreality. We seem to be +at the opera bouffe. A boy appears at the learning-shop, +purchases his parcel of knowledge, and then +tries to toss it under the counter and dodge out of +the door before the shopman can be quick enough +to make him carry off the goods. Nothing can cure +such folly except insistence that pupil’s neglect is not +teacher’s injury. The elective system points out to +a man that he has something at stake in a study, and +so trains him to look upon time squandered as a +personal loss. Where this consciousness can be presumed, +a higher style of teaching becomes possible. +Methods spring up unlike formal lectures, unlike +humdrum recitations. The student acquires—what +he will need in after life—the power to look up a +single subject in many books. Theses are written; +discussions held; in higher courses, problems of research +supersede defined tasks. During 1860-61, +fifty-six per cent of the Harvard undergraduates consulted +the college library; during 1883-84, eighty-five +per cent.</p> +<p>In a similar way governmental problems change +their character. Formerly, it was assumed that a +student who followed his own wishes would be indisposed +to attend recitations. Penalties were accordingly +established to compel him to come. At +present, there is not one of his twelve recitations a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +week which a Harvard student might not “cut.” +Of course I do not mean that unlimited absence is +allowed. Any one who did not appear for a week +would be asked what he was doing. But for several +years there has been no mechanical regulation,—so +much absence, so much penalty. I had the curiosity +to see how largely, under this system of trust, the +last senior class had cared to stay away. I counted all +absences, excused and unexcused. Some men had +been sick for considerable periods; some had been +worthless, and had shamelessly abused their freedom. +Reckoning in all misdeeds and all misfortunes, +I found that on the average each man had been absent +a little less than twice a week.<a name='FNanchor_0005' id='FNanchor_0005'></a><a href='#Footnote_0005' class='fnanchor'>[5]</a> The test of high +character is the amount of freedom it will absorb +without going to pieces. The elective system enlarges +the capacity to absorb freedom undisturbed. +But it would be unfair to imply that the new spirit +is awakened in students alone. Professors are themselves +instructed. The obstacles to their proper +work, those severest of all obstacles which come from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +defective sympathy, are cleared away. A teacher +draws near his class, and learns what he can do for +it. Long ago it was said that among the Gentiles—people +spiritually rude—great ones exercised +authority, while in a state of righteousness this should +not be so; there the leader would estimate his importance +by his serviceability. It was a teacher who +spoke, and he spoke to teachers. To-day teachers’ +dangers lie in the same direction. Always dealing +with inferiors, isolated from criticism, by nature not +less sluggish than others, through the honorable +passion which they feel for their subject disposed to +set the private investigation of it above its exposition, +teachers are continually tempted to think of a class +as if it existed for their sakes rather than they for +its. Fasten pupils to the benches, and nothing counteracts +this temptation except that individual conscience +which in all of us is a faculty that will well +bear strengthening. It may be just to condemn the +dull, the intolerant, the self-absorbed teacher; but +why not condemn also the system which perpetuates +him? Nobody likes to be inefficient; slackness is +largely a fault of inadvertence. That system is good +which makes inadvertence difficult and opens the +way for a teacher to discover whether his instructions +hit. Give students choice, and a professor +gets the power to see himself as others see him.</p> +<p>How this is accomplished appears by examining +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +three possible cases. Suppose, in the first place, I +become negligent this year, am busy with private +affairs, and so content myself with imparting nothing, +with calling off questions from a text-book, or with +reading my old lectures; I shall find out my mistake +plainly enough next June, when fewer men than +usual elect my courses. Suppose, secondly, I give +my class important matter, but put it in such a form +that young minds cannot readily assimilate it; the +same effect follows, only in this case I shall probably +attract a small company of the hardier spirits,—in +some subjects the very material a teacher desires. +Or suppose, lastly, I seek popularity, aim at entertainment, +and give my pupils little work to do; my +elective becomes a kind of sink, into which are +drained off the intellectual dregs of the college. Other +teachers will get rid of their loafers; I shall take them +in. But I am not likely to retain them. A teacher +is known by the company he keeps. In a vigorous +community a “soft” elective brings no honor to its +founder. I shall be apt to introduce a little stiffening +into my courses each year, till the appearance of +the proper grade of student tells me I am proved to +have a value. There is, therefore, in the new method +a self-regulating adjustment. Teacher and taught +are put on their good behavior. A spirit of faithfulness +is infused into both, and by that very fact the +friendliest relation is established between them.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div> +<p>I have left myself little room to explain why the +elective system should be begun as early as the freshman +year, and surely not much room is needed. A +system proved to exert a happy influence over character, +and thence over manners and scholarly disposition, +is exactly the maturing agency needed by +the freshman of eighteen. It is the better suited to +him because the early years of college life are its least +valuable portion, which can bear, therefore, most +economically the disciplining losses sure to come +when a student is learning to choose. More than this, +the change from school methods to character methods +is too grave a one to be passed over as an incident in +the transition from year to year. A change of residence +should mark it. It should stand at the entrance +to a new career. Parents should be warned, and those +who have brought up their sons to habits of luxurious +ease should be made fully aware that a college +which appeals to character has no place for children +of theirs.</p> +<p>Every mode of training has its exclusions. I +prefer the one which brings least profit to our dangerous +classes,—the indolent rich. Leslie Stephen +has said that the only argument rascals can understand +is the hangman. The only inducement to +study, for boys of loose early life, is compulsion. +But for the plain democratic many, who have sound +seed in themselves, who have known duty early, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +and who have found in worthy things their law and +impulse, the elective system, even during the freshman +year, gives an opportunity for moral and mental +expansion such as no compulsory system can +afford.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Perhaps in closing I ought to caution the reader +that he has been listening to a description of tendencies +merely, and not of completed attainment. +In no college is the New Education fully embodied. +It is an ideal, toward which all are moving, and a +powerfully influential ideal. In explaining it, for the +sake of simplicity I have confined myself to tracing +the working of its central principle, and I have drawn +my illustrations from that Harvard life with which +I am most familiar. But simplicity distorts; the shadows +disappear. I am afraid I may seem to have +hinted that the Harvard training already comes pretty +near perfection. It does not—let me say so distinctly. +We have much to learn. Side by side with +nobler tendencies to which I have directed attention, +disheartening things appear. The examination paper +still attacks learning on its intellectual side, the +marking system on its moral. All I have sought to +establish is this: there is a method which we and +many other colleges in different degrees have adopted, +which is demonstrably a sound method. Its soundness +should by this time be generally acknowledged, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +and criticism should now turn to the important work +of bettering its details of operation. May what I +have written encourage such criticism and help to +make it wise, penetrative, and friendly.</p> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0004' id='Footnote_0004'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0004'><span class='label'>[4]</span></a> +<p>But a great deal of the expense also. How much larger the +staff of teachers must be where everything is taught to anybody +than where a few subjects are offered to all, may be seen by comparing +the number of teachers at Harvard—146, instructing +1586 men—with those of Glasgow University in 1878—42, +instructing 2018 men.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0005' id='Footnote_0005'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0005'><span class='label'>[5]</span></a> +<p>Or sixteen per cent of his recitations. Readers may like to +compare this result with the number of absences elsewhere. At +a prominent New England college, one of the best of those which +require attendance, a student is excused from ten per cent of his +exercises. But this amount does not cover absences of necessity,—absences +caused by sickness, by needs of family, and by the +many other perfectly legitimate hindrances to attendance. The +percentage given for the Harvard seniors includes all absences +whatsoever.</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +<a name='IX_ERRONEOUS_LIMITATIONS_OF_THE_ELECTIVE_SYSTEM' id='IX_ERRONEOUS_LIMITATIONS_OF_THE_ELECTIVE_SYSTEM'></a> +<h3>IX +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />ERRONEOUS LIMITATIONS OF THE ELECTIVE SYSTEM</span></h3> +</div> +<p>In a paper published in the Andover Review a +year ago, I called attention to the fact that a new +principle is at work in American education. That +principle, briefly stated, is this: the student now consciously +shares in his own upbuilding. His studies are +knitted closely to his personal life. Under this influence +a new species of power is developed. Scholarship +broadens and deepens, boyishness diminishes, +teacher and pupil meet less artificially. The college, +as an institution, wins fresh life. Public confidence +awakens; pupils, benefactions, flow in. Over what I +wrote an eager controversy has arisen, a controversy +which must have proved instructive to those who +need instruction most. In the last resort questions +of education are decided by educators, as those of +sanitation by sanitary engineers; but in both cases +the decision has reference to public needs, and people +require to be instructed in the working of appliances +which are designed for their comfort. There is danger +that such instruction may not be given. Professional +men become absorbed in their art and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +content themselves with reticence, leaving the public +ignorant of the devices by which its health is to be +preserved. A great opportunity, therefore, comes to +the common householder when these professional men +fall foul of one another. In pressing arguments home +they frequently take to ordinary speech, and anybody +who then lends an ear learns of the mysteries. +The present discussion, I am sure, has brought this +informatory gain to every parent who reads the +Andover Review and has a studious boy. The +gain will have been greater because of the candor +and courtesy with which the attacking party has +delivered its assault. The contest has been earnest. +Its issues have been rightly judged momentous. +For good or for ill, the choice youth of the land are +to be shaped by whatever educational policy finally +wins. Yet, so far as I recall, no unkind word has +slipped from the pen of one of my stout opponents; +no disparagement of man or college has mixed with +the energetic advocacy of principle; the discussion +has set in well toward things. I cannot call this +remarkable. Of course it is not easy to be fair and +strong at once. Sweetness and light are often parted. +Yet we rightly expect the scholar’s life to civilize him +who pursues it, and we anticipate from books a refinement +of the spirit and the manners as well as the +understanding. My opponents have been scholars, +and have spoken as scholars speak. It is a pleasure +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +to linger in their kindly contentious company. So +I gladly accept the invitation of the editors of the +Review to sum up our discussion and to add some +explanatory last words.</p> +<p>The papers which have appeared fall into two +easily distinguishable classes, the descriptive and the +critical. To the former I devote but a brief space, +so much more direct is the bearing of the latter on +the main topic of debate—the question, namely, +what course the higher education can and what it +cannot now take. Yet the descriptive papers perform +a service and deserve a welcome word. Suspecting +that I was showing off Harvard rather favorably, +professors planted elsewhere have attempted to make +an equally favorable exhibit of their own colleges. +In my manifesto they have seen “a coveted opportunity +to bring forward corresponding statistics which +have not been formed under the Harvard method.” +Perhaps this was to mistake my aim a little. I did +intend to advance my college in public esteem; she +deserves that of me in everything I write. But primarily +I thought of myself as the expounder of an +important policy, which happens to have been longer +perceived and more elaborately studied at Harvard +than elsewhere. I hope I did not imply that Harvard, +having this excellence, has all others. She has many +weaknesses, which should not be shielded from discerning +discussion. Nor did I intend to commit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +the injustice to Harvard—an injustice as gross as it +is frequent—of treating her as a mere embodiment +of the elective system. Harvard is a complex and +august institution, possessed of all the attractions +which can be lent by age, tradition, learning, continually +renewed resources, fortunate situation, widespread +clientage, enthusiastic loyalty, and forceful +guidance. She is the intellectual mother of us all, +honored certainly by me, and I believe by thousands +of others, for a multiplicity of subtle influences +which stretch far outside her special modes of instruction. +But for the last half-century Harvard has +been developing a new and important policy of +education. Coincident with this development she +has attained enormous popular esteem and internal +power. The value and limits of this policy, the +sources of this esteem and power, I wish everybody, +colleges and populace, to scrutinize. To make these +things understood is to help the higher education +everywhere.</p> +<p>In undertaking this <i>quasi</i> philosophical task, I +count it a piece of good fortune to have provoked so +many lucid accounts of what other colleges are doing. +The more of these the better. The public cannot be +too persistently reminded of the distinctive merits +of this college and of that. Let each be as zealous as +possible; gains made by one are gains for all. Depreciatory +rivalry between colleges is as silly as it is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +when religious sects quarrel in the midst of a perishing +world. Probably such rivalries have their rise +in the dull supposition that a fixed constituency of +pupils exists somewhere, which if not turned toward +one college may be drawn to another. As the old +political economists tell of a “wages fund,” fixed and +constant in each community, so college governors +are apt to imagine a public pupil-hoard, not susceptible +of much increase or diminution, which may +by inadvertence fall into other hands than their own. +In reality each college creates its constituency. Its +students come, in the main, from the inert mass of +the uncollegiate public. Only one in eight among +Harvard students is a son of a Harvard graduate; +and probably the small colleges beget afresh an even +larger percentage of their students. On this account +the small colleges have been a power in the land. +To disparage them shall never be my office. In a +larger degree than the great universities they spread +the college idea among people who would not otherwise +possess it. The boy who lives within fifty miles +of one of them reflects whether he will or will not +have a college training. Were there no college in +the neighborhood, he might never consider the matter +at all. It is natural enough for undergraduates +to decry every college except their own; but those who +love education generously, and who seek to spread +it far and wide, cannot afford the luxury of envy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +One common danger besetting us all should bind +us together. In the allurements of commerce boys +may forget that college is calling. They do forget it. +According to my computations the number of persons +in the New England colleges to-day is about +the same as the number in the insane asylums; but +little more than the number of idiots. Probably +this number is not increasing in proportion to population. +Professor Newton, of Oberlin, finds that +the increase of students during the ten years between +1870 and 1880, in twenty of our oldest leading colleges, +was less than three and a half per cent, the +population of the United States increasing during the +same period twenty-three per cent. In view of facts +like these, careful study of the line along which college +growth is still possible becomes a necessity. +It will benefit all colleges alike. No one engaged in +it has a side to maintain. We are all alike seekers. +Whatever instructive experience any college can +contribute to the common study, and whatever pupils +she may thereby gain, will be matter for general rejoicing.</p> +<p>To such a study the second, or critical, class of +papers furnishes important stimulus; for these have +not confined themselves to describing institutions: +they have gone on to discuss the value and limits +of the principle which actuates the new education +everywhere. In many respects their writers and I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +are in full accord. In moral aim we always are, and +generally too in our estimate of the present status. +We all confess that the conditions of college education +have changed, that the field of knowledge has +enlarged, that a liberal training nowadays must fit +men for more than the four professions of preaching, +teaching, medicine, and law. We agree that the prescribed +systems of the past are outgrown. We do not +want them. We doubt whether they were well suited +to their own time; we are sure they will never fit +ours. Readjustments of curricula, we all declare, +must be undertaken if the higher education is to +retain its hold on our people. Further still, we agree +in the direction of this readjustment. My critics, +no less than I, believe that a widely extended scope +must be given to individual choice. With the possible +exception of Professor Denison, about whose opinion +I am uncertain, everybody who has taken part in the +controversy recognizes the elective principle as a +beneficial one and maintains that in some form or +other it has come to stay, People generally are not +aware what a consensus of opinion on this point late +years have brought about. To rid ourselves once for +all of further controversy let us weigh well the words +of my opponents.</p> +<p>Mr. Brearley begins his criticism addressed to the +New York Harvard Club thus: “We premise that +every one accepts the elective principle. Some system +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +based on that principle must be established. No one +wants the old required systems back, or any new required +system.” Professor Howison says: “An elective +system, in its proper place, and under its due +conditions, is demonstrably sound.” Professor Ladd +does not express himself very fully on this point +in the Andover Review, but his opinions may be +learned from the New Englander for January, +1885. When, in 1884, Yale College reformed its +curriculum and introduced elective studies, it became +desirable to instruct the graduates about the +reasons for a step which had been long resisted. +After a brief trial of the new system, Professor Ladd +published his impressions of it. I strongly commend +his candid paper to the attention of those who still +believe the old methods the safer. He asserts that +“a perfect and final course of college study is, if not an +unattainable ideal, at present an impossible achievement.” +The considerations which were “the definite +and almost compulsory reasons for instituting a +comprehensive change” he groups under the following +heads: (1) the need of modern languages; (2) the +crowding of studies in the senior year; (3) the heterogeneous +and planless character of the total course; +(4) the need of making allowance for the tastes, the +contemplated pursuits, and the aptitudes of the individual +student. Substantially, these are the evils +of prescription which I pointed out; only, in my view, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +they are evils not confined to a single year. Stating +his observation of the results of election, Professor +Ladd says: “Increased willingness in study, and +even a new and marked enthusiasm on the part of a +considerable number of students, is another effect +of the new course already realized. The entire body +of students in the upper classes is more attentive, +regular, interested, and even eager, than ever before.” +“More intimate and effective relations are +secured in many cases between teachers and pupils.”</p> +<p>These convictions in regard to the efficiency which +the elective principle lends to education are not confined +to my critics and myself. Let me cite testimony +from representatives of other colleges. The last +Amherst Catalogue records (page 24) that “excellent +results have appeared from this [the elective] +method. The special wants of the student are thus +met, his zest and progress in his work are increased, +and his association with his teachers becomes thus +more close and intimate.” President Robinson says, +in his annual report for 1885 to the Corporation +of Brown University: “There are advantages in a +carefully guarded system of optional studies not +otherwise obtainable. The saving of time in preparing +for a special calling in life is something, and the +cumulative zeal in given lines of study, where a gratified +and growing taste is ever beckoning onward, +is still more. But above all, some provision for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +choice among ever-multiplying courses of study has +become a necessity.” In addressing the American +Institute of Instruction at Bar Harbor, July 7, 1886, +Professor A. S. Hardy, of Dartmouth, is reported as +saying: “Every educator now recognizes the fact +that individual characteristics are always sufficiently +marked to demand his earliest attention; and, furthermore, +that there is a stage in the process of +education where the choice, the responsibility, and +the freedom of the individual should have a wide +scope.” President Adams, in his inaugural address +at Cornell in 1885, asserted that “there are varieties +of gifts, call them, if you will, fundamental differences, +that make it impossible to train successfully all of +a group of boys to the same standard. These differences +are partly matters of sheer ability, and partly +matters of taste; for if a boy has so great an aversion +to a given study that he can never be brought +to apply himself to it with some measure of fondness, +he is as sure not to succeed in it as he would +be if he were lacking the requisite mental capacity.”</p> +<p>In determining, then, what the new education +may wisely be, let this be considered settled: it must +contain a large element of election. That is the +opinion of these unbiased judges. They find personal +choice necessary for promoting a wider range +of topics in the college, a greater zeal on the part of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +the student, and more suitable relations between +teacher and pupil. With this judgment I, of course, +heartily agree, though I should make more prominent +the moral reason of the facts. I should insist +that a right character and temper in the receiving +mind is always a prerequisite of worthy study.<a name='FNanchor_0006' id='FNanchor_0006'></a><a href='#Footnote_0006' class='fnanchor'>[6]</a> +But I misrepresent these gentlemen if I allow their +testimony to stop here. They maintain that the +elective principle as thus far carried out, though valuable, +is still meagre and one-sided. They do not +think it will be found self-sufficing and capable of +guarding its own working. They see that it has +dangers peculiar to itself, and believe that to escape +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +them it will require to be restricted and furnished +with supplemental influences. I believe so too. +Choice is important, but it is also important that one +should choose well. The individual is sacred, but +only so far as he is capable of recognizing the sacredness +of laws which he has had no part in making. +Unrestricted arbitrary choice is indistinguishable +from chaos; and undoubtedly every method of training +which avoids mechanism and includes choice as +a factor leaves a door open in the direction of chaos. +Infinite Wisdom left that door open when man was +created. To dangers from this source I am fully +alive. I totally dissent from those advocates of the +elective system who would identify it with a <i>laissez-faire</i> +policy. The cry that we must let nature take +care of itself is a familiar one in trade, in art, in +medicine, in social relations, in the religious life, +in education; but in the long run it always proves +inadequate. Man is a personal spirit, a director, a +being fitted to compare and to organize forces, not to +take them as they rise, like a creature of nature. The +future will certainly not tolerate an education less +organic than that of the past; but just as certainly +will it demand that the organic tie shall be a living +one,—one whose bond may assist those whom it +restricts to become spontaneous, forcible, and diverse. +If I am offered only the alternative of absolutism or +<i>laissez-faire</i>, I choose <i>laissez-faire</i>. Out of chaotic +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +nature beautiful forms do continually come forth. +But absolutism kills in the cradle. It cannot tolerate +a life that is imperfect, and so it stifles what it should +nourish.</p> +<p>Up to this point my critics and I have walked hand +in hand. Henceforth we part company. I shall not +follow out all our little divergencies. My object from +the first has been to trace the line along which education +may now proceed. It must, it seems, be a +line including election; but election limited how? +To disentangle an answer to this vexed question, I +pass by the many points in which my critics have +shown that I am foolish, and the few others in which +I might show them so, and turn to the fundamental +issue between us, our judgment of what the supplemental +influences are which will render personal +initiative safe. Personal initiative is assured. The +authoritative utterances I have just quoted show +that it can never again be expelled from American +colleges. But what checks are compatible with it? +Accepting choice, what treatment will render it +continually wiser? Here differences of judgment begin +to appear, and here I had hoped to receive light +from my critics. The question is one where coöperative +experience is essential. But those who have +written against me seem hardly to have realized its +importance. They generally confine themselves to +showing how bad my plans are, and merely hint at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +better ones which they themselves might offer. +But what are these plans? Wise ways of training +boys are of more consequence than Harvard misdeeds. +We want to hear of a constructive policy +which can take a young man of nineteen and so train +him in self-direction that four years later he may +venture out alone into a perplexing, and for the most +part hostile, world. The thing to be done is to teach +boys how to manage themselves. Admit that the +Harvard discipline does not do this perfectly at +present; what will do it better? Here we are at an +educational crisis. We stand with this aim of self-guidance +in our hands. What are we going to do +with it? It is as dangerous as a bomb. But we cannot +drop it. It is too late to objurgate. It is better +to think calmly what possible modes of treatment are +still open. When railroads were found dangerous, +men did not take to stage-coaches again; they only +studied railroading the more.</p> +<p>Now in the mass of negative criticism which the +last year has produced I detect three positive suggestions, +three ways in which it is thought limitation +may be usefully applied to supplement the inevitable +personal initiative. These modes of limitation, it +is true, are not worked out with any fulness of practical +detail, as if their advocates were convinced that +the future was with them. Rather they are thrown +out as hints of what might be desirable if facts and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +the public would not interfere. But as they seem +to be the only conceivable modes of restricting the +elective principle by any species of outside checkage, +I propose to devote the remainder of this paper +to an examination of their feasibility. In a subsequent +paper I shall indicate what sort of corrective +appears to me more likely to prove congruous and +lasting.</p> +<p>I. The first suggestion is that the elective principle +should be limited from beneath. Universities +and schools are to advance their grade, so that finally +the universities will secure three or four years of +purely elective study, while the schools, in addition +to their present labors, will take charge of the studies +formerly prescribed by the college. The schools, +in short, are to become German gymnasia, and the +colleges to delay becoming universities until this +regeneration of the schools is accomplished.<a name='FNanchor_0007' id='FNanchor_0007'></a><a href='#Footnote_0007' class='fnanchor'>[7]</a> A certain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +“sum of topics” is said to be essential to the +culture of the man and the citizen. In the interest of +church and state, young minds must be provided with +certain “fact forms,” with a “common consciousness,” +a “common basis of humanism.” Important +as personal election is, to allow it to take place before +this common basis is laid is “to strike a blow at the +historic substance of civilization.” How extensive +this common consciousness is to be may be learned +from Professor Howison’s remark that “languages, +classical and modern; mathematics, in all its general +conceptions, thoroughly apprehended; physics, +acquired in a similar manner, and the other natural +sciences, though with much less of detail; history +and politics; literature, especially of the mother +tongue, but, indispensably, the masterpieces in other +languages, particularly the classic; philosophy, in the +thorough elements of psychology, logic, metaphysics, +and ethics, each historically treated, and economics, +in the history of elementary principles, must all enter +into any education that can claim to be liberal.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span></div> +<p>The practical objections to this monarchical +scheme are many. I call attention to three only.</p> +<p>In the first place, the argument on which it is +based proves too much. If we suppose a common +consciousness to be a matter of such importance, +and that it cannot be secured except by sameness +of studies, then that state is criminally careless which +allows ninety-nine hundredths of its members to +get an individual consciousness by the simple expedient +of never entering college. The theory seems +to demand that every male—and why not female?—between +sixteen and twenty be indoctrinated in +“the essential subject-matters,” without regard to +what he or she may personally need to know or do. +This is the plan of religious teaching adopted by the +Roman Church, which enforces its “fact forms” of +doctrine on all alike; without securing, however, by +this means, according to the judgment of the outside +world, any special freshness of religious life. +I do not believe the results would be better in the +higher secular culture, and I should be sorry to see +Roman methods applied there; but if they are to be +applied, let them fall impartially on all members of +the community. To put into swaddling clothes the +man who is wise enough to seek an education, and +to leave his duller brother to kick about as he pleases, +seems a little arbitrary.</p> +<p>But secondly, there is no more prospect of persuading +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +our high schools to accept the prescribed +subjects of the colleges than there is of persuading +our government to transform itself into the German. +Already the high schools and the colleges are unhappily +drawing apart. The only hope of their nearer +approach is in the remission by the colleges of some +of the more burdensome subjects at present exacted. +Paid for by common taxation, these schools are +called on to equip the common man for his daily +<ins title='Was comma'>struggle.</ins> That they will one day devote themselves +to laying the foundations of an ideally best education +for men of leisure is grotesquely improbable. Although +Harvard draws rather more than one-third +of her students from states outside New England, +the whole number of students who have come to her +from the high schools of these states, during a period +of the last ten years, is but sixty-six. Fitting for +college is becoming an alarmingly technical matter, +and is falling largely into the hands of private tutors +and academies.</p> +<p>It may be said, however, thirdly, that it is just +these academies which might advantageously take +the present freshmen and sophomore studies. They +would thus become the exclusive avenues to the university +of the future, leaving it free to do its own +proper work with elective studies. Considering the +great expense which this lengthening of the curriculum +of the academy implies, it is plain that the number +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +of schools capable of fitting boys in this way +would always be small. These few academies, with +their monopoly of learned training, would lose their +present character and be erected into little colleges,—colleges +of a second grade. That any such thing +is likely to occur, I do not believe; but if it were, +would it aid the higher education and promote its +wide dispersion? Precisely the contrary. Instead of +going to the university from the academies, boys +would content themselves with the tolerable education +already received. For the most part they would +decline to go farther. It is useless to say that this +does not happen in Germany, where the numbers +resorting to the university are so large as to have +become the subject of complaint; for the German +government, controlling as it does all access to the +professions, is able to force through the gymnasia +and through special courses at the university a body +of young men who would otherwise be seeking their +fortunes elsewhere. Whether such control would +be desirable in this country, I will not consider. +Some questions are not feasible even for discussion. +But it is to English experience we must look to see +what our case would be. The great public schools of +England—Eton, Rugby, Harrow, Winchester, Westminster, +Cheltenham—are of no higher order than +under the proposed plan Andover and Exeter would +become. From these two academies nearly ninety-five +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +per cent of the senior classes now enter some +college. But of the young men graduating from the +English schools named, so far as I can ascertain, +less than fifty per cent go to the university. With the +greater pressure toward commercial life in this country, +the number would certainly be less than in England. +To build up colleges of a second grade, and +to permit none but those who have passed them to +enter colleges of the first, is to cut off the higher education +from nearly all those who do not belong to +the privileged classes; it is to make the “common +consciousness” less common, and to turn it, even +more effectually than at present, into the consciousness +of a clique. He who must make a living for +himself or for others cannot afford to reach his profession +late. The age of entering college is already +too high. With improved methods of teaching I +hope it maybe somewhat reduced. At any rate, every +study now added to the high schools or academies +is a fresh barrier between education and the people.</p> +<p>II. If, then, by prescribing a large amount of +study outside the university the elective principle is +not likely to be successfully limited, is it not probable +that within the college itself the two counter principles +of election and prescription, mutually limiting, +mutually supporting, will always be retained? This +is the second suggestion; to bring studies of choice +and studies commanded into juxtaposition. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +backbone of the college is to be kept prescribed, the +fleshy parts to be made elective. By a special modification +of the plan, the later years are turned largely, +perhaps wholly, toward election, and a line is drawn +at the junior, or even the sophomore year, below +which elective studies are forbidden to penetrate. +Is not this the plan that will finally be judged safest? +It certainly is the safest for a certain number of years. +Before it can securely reach anything else, every college +must pass through this intermediate state. After +half a century of testing election Harvard still retains +some prescribed studies. The Harvard juniors +chose for nineteen years before the sophomores, and +the sophomores seventeen years before the freshmen. +In introducing electives a sober pace is commendable. +A university is charged with the greatest +of public trusts. The intelligence of the community +is, to a large extent, in its keeping. It is bound +to keep away from risky experiments, to disregard +shifting popular fancies, and to be as conservative +as clearness of sight will permit. I do not plead, +therefore, that Harvard and Yale should abolish all +prescription the coming year. They certainly should +not. In my opinion most colleges are moving too +fast in the elective direction already. I merely plead +that we must see where we are going. As public +guides, we must forecast the track of the future if +we would avoid stumbling into paths which lead nowhere. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +That is all I am attempting here. I want to +ascertain whether the dual system of limitation is a +stable system, one in which we can put our trust, or +whether it is a temporary convenience, likely to slip +away a little year after year. What does history say? +Let us examine the facts of the past. The following +table shows at the left the fifteen New England colleges. +In the next three parallel columns is printed +the percentage of elective studies which existed in +these colleges in 1875-76; in the last three, the percentage +which exists to-day. To render the comparison +more exact, I print the sophomore, junior, +and senior years separately, reserving the problem +of the freshman year for later discussion.</p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="More Student Data"> +<col /> +<col class="col_border" /> +<col class="col_border" /> +<col class="col_border" /> +<col class="col_border" /> +<col class="col_border" /> +<tr><td /><td align="center" colspan="3">1875-76</td><td align="center" colspan="3">1885-86</td></tr> +<tr class="bottom_border"><td /><td align="center">Soph.</td><td align="center">Jun.</td><td align="center">Sen.</td><td align="center">Soph.</td><td align="center">Jun.</td><td align="center">Sen.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Amherst</td><td align="right">.04</td><td align="right">.20</td><td align="right">.08</td><td align="right">.20</td><td align="right">.75</td><td align="right">.75</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Bates</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Boston</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.35</td><td align="right">.66</td><td align="right">.82</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Bowdoin</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.15</td><td align="right">.25</td><td align="right">.25</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Brown</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.04</td><td align="right">.04</td><td align="right">.14</td><td align="right">.37</td><td align="right">.55</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Colby</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.08</td><td align="right">.16</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Dartmouth</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.41</td><td align="right">.36</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Harvard</td><td align="right">.50</td><td align="right">.78</td><td align="right">1.00</td><td align="right">1.00</td><td align="right">1.00</td><td align="right">1.00</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Middlebury</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Trinity</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.25</td><td align="right">.25</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Tufts</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.17</td><td align="right">.17</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.28</td><td align="right">.43</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Vermont</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Wesleyan</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.47</td><td align="right">.47</td><td align="right">.16</td><td align="right">.47</td><td align="right">.64</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Williams</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.37</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Yale</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">.13</td><td align="right">.53</td><td align="right">.80</td></tr> +</table> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></div> +<p>This table yields four conclusions: (1) A rapid and +fateful revolution is going on in the higher education +of New England. We do not exaggerate the change +when we speak of an old education and a new. (2) +The spread of it is in tolerable proportion to the +wealth of the college concerned. The new modes are +expensive. It is not disapproval which is holding the +colleges back; it is inability to meet the cost. I am +sorry to point out this fact. To my mind one of +the gravest perplexities of the new education is the +query, What are the small colleges to do? They have +a usefulness altogether peculiar; yet from the life-giving +modern methods of training they are of necessity +largely cut off. (3) The colleges which long ago +foresaw their coming necessities have been able to +proceed more cautiously than those which acknowledged +them late. (4) The movement is one of steady +advance. There is no going back. It must be remembered, +too, that the stablest colleges have been +proceeding with these changes many more years than +the period shown in the table. Are we, then, prepared +to dismiss prejudice from our minds and to +recognize what steadiness of advance means? In +other matters when a general tendency in a given +direction is discovered, extending over a long series of +years, visible in individuals widely unlike, and presenting +no solitary case of backward turning, we are +apt to conclude that there is a force in the movement +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +which will carry it still further onward. We are not +disposed to seize on some point in its path and to +count that an ultimate holding-ground. This, I say, +would be a natural conclusion unless we could detect +in the movement tendencies at work in an opposite +direction. Are there any such tendencies here? +I cannot find them. Prescription invariably loses; +election invariably gains.</p> +<p>But in order to make a rational prediction about +the future we must know more than the bare facts of +the past; we need to know why these particular facts +have arisen. What are the reasons that whenever +elective and prescribed studies are mixed, an extrusive +force regularly appears in the elective? The reasons +are not far to seek. Probably every professor in New +England understands them. The two systems are +so incongruous that each brings out the vices rather +than the virtues of its incompatible brother. Prescribed +studies, side by side with elective, appear a +bondage; elective, side by side with prescribed, an +indulgence. So long as all studies are prescribed, one +may be set above another in the mind of the pupil +on grounds of intrinsic worth; let certain studies +express the pupil’s wishes, and almost certainly the +remainder, valuable as they may be in themselves, +will express his disesteem. It is useless to say this +should not be so. It always is. The zeal of work, +the freshness of interest, which now appear in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +chosen studies, are deducted from those which are +forced. On the latter as little labor as possible is +expended. They become perfunctory and mechanical, +and soon restive pupils and dissatisfied teachers +call for fresh extension of energizing choice. This is +why the younger officers in all the colleges are eager +to give increased scope to the elective studies. They +cannot any longer get first-rate work done in the prescribed. +Alarmed by the dangers of the new principle, +as they often and justly are, they find that the presence +of prescription, instead of diminishing the dangers, +adds another and a peculiarly enfeebling one +to those which existed before. So certain are these +dangers, and so inevitable the expanding power of +the elective principle, that it is questionable whether +it would not be wise for a college to refuse to have +anything to do with elective studies so soon as it +knows itself too weak to allow them to spread.</p> +<p>For where will the spreading stop? It cannot stop +till the causes of it stop. The table just given shows +no likelihood of its stopping at all, and a little reflection +will show that each enlargement increases +the reasons for another enlargement still. If prescribed +studies are ever exceptional, ineffective, +and obnoxious, they certainly become more so as +they diminish in number. A college which retains +one of them is in a condition of unstable equilibrium. +But is this true of the freshman year? Will not a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +special class of considerations keep prescription enduring +and influential there, long after it has lost +its usefulness in the later years? A boy of nineteen +comes from home about as untrained in will as in +intelligence. Will it not always be thought best to +give him a year in which to acquaint himself with his +surroundings and to learn what studies he may afterwards +profitably select? Possibly it will. I incline +to think not. The case of the freshman year is undoubtedly +peculiar. Taking a large body of colleges, +we have direct evidence that during their last three +years the elective principle steadily wins and never +loses. We have but a trifle of such evidence as regards +the freshman year. There the struggle of the +two forces has barely begun. It has begun at Harvard, +and the usual result is already foreshadowed. +The prescribed studies are disparaged studies; they +are not worked at the best advantage. Still, I do +not like to prophesy on evidence so narrow. I will +merely say I see no reason to suppose that colleges +will meet with permanent success in mingling incompatible +kinds of study in their freshman year. But I +can only surmise. Let any college that inclines to +try the experiment do so.</p> +<p>It may be thought, however, a wiser course to +keep the freshman year untouched by choice. A +solid year of prescription is thus secured as a limitation +on the election that is to follow. This plan is so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +often advised, especially by persons unacquainted +with the practical working of colleges, that it requires +a brief examination by itself.</p> +<p>Let us suppose the revolution which we have +traced in the sophomore, junior, and senior years to +have reached its natural terminus; let us suppose that +in these years all studies have become elective, while +the freshman year remains completely prescribed; +the college will then fall into two parts, a preparatory +department and a university department. In these +two departments the character of the instruction, the +methods of study, the consciousness of the students, +will be altogether dissimilar. The freshmen will not +be taken by upper classmen as companions; they +will be looked down upon as children. Hazing will +find abundant excuse. An abrupt line will be drawn, +on whose farther side freedom will lie, on whose +hither side, bondage. The sophomore, a being who +at best has his peculiarities, will find his sense of +self-sufficiency doubled. Whatever badly-bred boy +parents incline to send to college will seem to them +safe enough for a year, and they will suppose that +during this period he will learn how to behave. Of +course he will learn nothing of the sort. Manly discipline +has not yet begun. At the end of the freshman +year a boy will be only so much less a boy as increase +of age may make him. Through being forced to +study mathematics this year there comes no sustaining +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +influence fitted to fortify the judgment when one +is called the next year to choose between Greek and +German. On the contrary, the change from school +methods to maturing methods is rendered as dangerous +as possible by allowing it to take place quite +nakedly, by itself, unsupported by other changes, +and at the mere dictation of the almanac. An emancipation +so bare and sudden is not usual elsewhere. +For boys who do not go to college, departure from +home is commonly recognized as a fit occasion for +putting on that dangerous garment, the <i>toga virilis</i>. +Entrance to the university constitutes a similar +epoch, when change of residence, new companions, +altered conditions of living, a realization that the old +supports are gone, and the presumption with which +every one now meets the youth that he is to be +treated as a man among men, become helpful influences +coöperating to ease the hard and inevitable +transition from parental control to personal self-direction. +A safer time for beginning individual responsibility +cannot be found. At any rate, whether +my diagnosis of reasons is correct or not, the fact +is clear,—self-respecting colleges do not tolerate +preparatory departments. They do not work well. +They are an element of weakness in the institution +which harbors them. Even where at first they are +judged necessary, so soon as the college grows strong +they are dropped. When we attempt to plan an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +education for times to come, we must bear in mind +established facts. Turn the freshman year into a +preparatory department, fill it with studies antithetic +in aim, method, and spirit to those of later years, +and something is established which no sober college +ever permitted to remain long within its borders. +This is the teaching of the past without an exception. +To suppose the future will be different is but the +blind hope of a timid transitionalism.</p> +<p>III. The third suggestion for restricting election +is the group system. This deserves a more respectful +treatment than the methods hitherto discussed, +for it is something more than a suggestion: it is a +system, a constructive plan of education, thought +out in all its parts, and directed toward an intended +end. The definition which I have elsewhere offered +of the elective system, that it demands a fixed quantity +and quality of study with variable topic, would be +applicable also to the group system. Accordingly it +belongs to the new education rather than to the old. +No less than the elective system it is opposed to the +methods of restriction thus far described. These +latter methods attempt to limit election by the ballast +of an alien principle lodged beneath it or by its +side. They put a weight of prescription into the preparatory +schools, into the early college years, or into +parallel lines of study extending throughout the +college course. The source of their practical trouble +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +lies here: the two principles, election and prescription, +are nowhere united; they remain sundered and +at war, unserviceable for each other’s defects. The +group system intertwines them. It permits choice in +everything, but at the same time prescribes everything. +This it effects by enlarging the unit of choice +and prescribing its constituent factors. A group +or block of studies is offered for choice, not a single +study. All the studies of a group must be taken if +any are, the “if” being the only matter left for the +student to settle. The group may include all the +studies open to a student at the university. One decision +may determine his entire course. Or, as in the +somewhat analogous arrangement of the English +universities, one group may be selected at the beginning +and another in the middle of the university +life. The group itself is sometimes contrived so as +to allow an individual variation; different students +read different books; a special phase of philosophy, +history, or science receives prominence. But the +boundaries of the group cannot be crossed. All the +studies selected by the college authorities to form a +single group must be taken; no others can be.</p> +<p>In this method of limiting choice there is much +that is attractive. I feel that attraction strongly. +Under the exceptional conditions which exist at the +Johns Hopkins University, a group system has done +excellent work. Like all the rest of the world, I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +honor that work and admire its wise directors. But +group systems seem to me to possess features too +objectionable to permit them to become the prevalent +type of the future, and I do not see how these +features can be removed without abandoning what +is distinctive, and changing the whole plan into the +elective system, pure and simple. The objectionable +features connect themselves with the size of the unit +of choice, with difficulties in the construction of the +groups, and with the attempt to enforce specialization. +But these are enigmatic phrases; let me explain +them.</p> +<p>Obviously, for the young, foresight is a hard matter. +While disciplining them in the intricate art of looking +ahead, I should think it wise to furnish frequently +a means of repairing errors. Penalties for bad choices +should not be too severe. Now plainly the larger the +unit of choice, the graver the consequences of erroneous +judgment. The group system takes a large unit, +a body of studies; the simple elective system, a small +unit, the single study. Errors of choice are consequently +less reparable under the group system than +under pure election. To meet this difficulty the +college course at Baltimore has been reduced from +four years to three; but even so, a student who selects +a group for which he finds himself unfit cannot +bring himself into proper adjustment without the +loss of a year. If he does not discover his unfitness +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +until the second year has begun, he loses two <ins title='Period added'>years.</ins> +Under the elective system, the largest possible penalty +for a single mistake is the loss of a single study, +one quarter of a year’s work. This necessary difference +in ease of reparability appears to me to mark an +inferiority in group systems, considered as methods +of educating choice. To the public it may seem otherwise. +I am often astonished to find people approving +irreparable choices and condemning reparable ones. +That youths between nineteen and twenty-three +should select studies for themselves shocks many +people who look kindly enough on marriages contracted +during those years. Boys still unbearded have +a large share in deciding whether they will go to +college, to a scientific school, to a store, to sea, or +to a cattle-ranch. Their lives are staked on the wisdom +of the step taken. Yet the American mode of +meeting these family problems seems to our community, +on the whole, safer than the English way +of regulating them by tradition and dictation. The +choice with heavy stakes of the boy who does not +go to college is frequently set off favorably against +the choices with light stakes of the boy who goes. +Perhaps a similarly lenient judgment will in the long +run be passed on the great stakes involved in group +systems. I doubt it. I think it will ultimately be +judged less dangerous and more maturing to grant +a young man, in his passage through a period +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +of moral discipline, frequent opportunities of repair.</p> +<p>Again, the practical difficulties of deciding what +groups shall be formed are enormous. What studies +shall enter into each? How many groups shall there +be? If but one, we have the old-fashioned college +with no election. If two, we have the plan which +Yale has just abandoned, a fixed undergraduate +department maintained in parallel vigor with a +fixed scientific school. But in conceding the claims +of variety even to this degree, we have treated the +fundamental differences between man and man as +worthy, not reprehensible; and can we say that the +proper differences are only two? Must we not acknowledge +a world at least as complex as that they +have in Baltimore, where there appear to be seven +reputable species of mankind: “Those who wish +a good classical training; those who look toward a +course in medicine; those who prefer mathematical +studies with reference to engineering, astronomy, and +teaching; those who wish an education in scientific +studies, not having chosen a specialty; those who +expect to pursue a course in theology; those who propose +to study law; those who wish a literary training +not rigidly classical.” Here a classification of human +wishes is attempted, but one suspects that there +are legitimate wishes which lie outside the scheme. +It does not, for example, at once appear why a prospective +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +chemist should be debarred from all regular +study of mathematics. It seems hard that a youth +of literary tastes should be cut off from Greek at +entrance unless he will agree to take five exercises +in it each week throughout his college course. One +does not feel quite easy in allowing nobody but a lawyer +or a devotee of modern languages to read a page +of English or American history. The Johns Hopkins +programme is the most ingenious and the most flexible +contrivance for working a group system that I +have ever seen. For this reason I mention it as the +most favorable type of all. Considering its purposes, +I do not believe it can be much improved. As applied +to its little band of students, 116, it certainly +works few hardships. Yet all the exclusions I have +named, and many more besides, appear in it. I instance +these simply to show what barriers to knowledge +the best group system erects. Remove these, +and others quite as great are introduced. Try to +avoid them by allowing the student of one group to +take certain studies in another, and the sole line +which parts the group system from the elective is +abandoned. In practice, it usually is abandoned. +Confronted with the exigencies of operation, the so-called +group system turns into an elective system, +with highly specialized lines of study strongly recommended. +With this more genial working I have nothing +now to do. My point is this: a system of hard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +and fast groups presents difficulties of construction +and maintenance too great to recommend it to the +average college of the future as the best mode of +limiting the elective principle.</p> +<p>Probably, however, this difficulty will chiefly be +felt by persons engaged in the actual work of educational +organization. The outer public will think +it a more serious objection that grouped colleges are +in reality professional schools carried down to the +limits of boyhood. So far as they hold by their groups, +they are nurseries of specialization. That this is +necessarily so may not at first be apparent. A little +consideration of the contrast in aim between group +systems and prescribed will make the matter plain. +Prescribed systems have gained their long hold on +popular confidence by aiming at harmonious culture. +They argue, justly enough, that each separate sort +of knowledge furnishes something of its own to the +making of a man. This particular “something,” +they say, can be had from no other source. The sum +of these “somethings” constitutes a rounded whole. +The man who has not experienced each of them in +some degree, however small, is imperfectly planned. +One who has been touched by all has laid the foundations +of a liberal education. Degree of acquaintance +with this subject or with that may subsequently +enlarge. Scholarly interest may concentrate. But +at the first, the proper aim is balanced knowledge, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +harmonious development of all essential powers, +avoidance of one-sidedness.</p> +<p>On this aim the group system bestows but a secondary +attention. Regarding primarily studies, not men, +it attempts to organize single connected departments +of knowledge. Accordingly it permits only those +studies to be pursued together which immediately +cohere. It lays out five, ten, any number of paths +through the field of knowledge, and to one of these +paths the pilgrim is confined. Each group constitutes +a specialty,—a specialty intensified in character as, +in order to escape the difficulties of maintenance just +pointed out, the number of groups is allowed to +increase. By insistence on specialization regard for +general culture is driven into a subordinate place. +The advocates of prescription maintain that there +are not half a dozen ground-plans of perfected humanity. +They say there is but one. If we introduce +variety of design into a curriculum, we neglect that +ideal man who resides alike in all. We trust, on the +contrary, in our power to hit some line of study which +may deservedly appeal to one human being while +not so appealing to another. We simply note the +studies which are most congruous with the special +line selected, and by this congruity we shape our +group. In the new aim, congruity of studies, adaptation +to a professional purpose, takes precedence +of harmonious development of powers.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></div> +<p>I have no doubt that specialization is destined to +become more marked in the American education of +the future. It must become so if we are to produce +the strong departmental scholars who illuminate +learning in other countries; indeed, it must become +so if we are to train competent experts for the affairs +of daily life. The popular distrust of specializing is +sure to grow less as our people become familiar with +its effects and see how often narrow and thorough +study, undertaken in early life, leads to ultimate +breadth. It is a pretty dream that a man may start +broad and then concentrate, but nine out of every +ten strong men have taken the opposite course. +They have begun in some one-sided way, and have +added other sides as occasion required. Almost in +his teens Shakespeare makes a specialty of the +theatre, Napoleon of military science, Beethoven of +music, Hunter of medicine, Faraday of chemistry, +Hamilton of political science. The great body of +painters, musicians, poets, novelists, theologians, +politicians, are early specialists. In fact, self-made +men are generally specialists. Something has aroused +an interest, and they have followed it out until they +have surveyed a wide horizon from a single point of +view. In offering wider opportunities for specialization, +colleges have merely been assimilating their +own modes of training to those which prevail in the +world at large.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span></div> +<p>It does not, therefore, seem to me objectionable +that group systems set a high value on specialization. +That is what every man does, and every clear-eyed +college must do it too. What I object to is that +group systems, so far as they adhere to their aim, +<i>enforce</i> specialization. Among every half-dozen students, +probably one will be injured if he cannot +specialize largely; two or three more might wisely +specialize in lower degree; but to force the remaining +two or three into curricula shaped by professional +bias is to do them serious damage. There are sober +boys of little intrepidity or positive taste, boys who +properly enough wish to know what others know. +They will not make scholars. They were not born +to enlarge the boundaries of knowledge. They have +another function: they preserve and distribute such +knowledge as already exists. Many of them are persons +of wealth. To furnish them glimpses of varied +learning is to save them from barbarism. Still another +large class is composed of boys who develop +late. They are boys who will one day acquire an interest +of their own, if they are allowed to roam about +somewhat aimlessly in the domain of wisdom until +they are twenty-one. Both of these classes have their +rights. The prescribed system was built to support +them; the elective shelters and improves them; but +a group system shuts them all out, if they will not +on leaving school adopt professional courses. Whenever +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +I can hear of a group system which like the old +college has a place for the indistinct young man, +and like the new elective college matures him annually +by suggesting that he take part in shaping +his own career, I will accept the group system. +Then, too, the public will probably accept it. Until +then, rigid groups will be thought by many to lay +too great a strain on unseasoned powers of choice, +to present too many practical difficulties of construction, +and to show too doctrinaire a confidence that +every youth will fit without pinching into a specialized +class.</p> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0006' id='Footnote_0006'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0006'><span class='label'>[6]</span></a> +<p>These conditions of intellectual nourishment were long ago +recognized in other, less formal, departments of mental training. +In his essays on <i>Books and Reading</i> President Porter wrote in +1871: “The person who asks. What shall I read? or, With what +shall I begin? may have read for years in a mechanical routine, +and with a listless spirit; with scarcely an independent thought, +with no plans of self-improvement, and few aspirations for self-culture. +To all these classes the advice is full of meaning: ‘Read +what will satisfy your wants and appease your desires, and you +will comply with the first condition to reading with interest and +profit.’ Hunger and thirst are better than manifold appliances +and directions, in respect to other than the bodily wants, towards +a good appetite and a healthy digestion. If a man has any self-knowledge +or any power of self-direction, he is surely competent +to ask himself what is the subject or subjects in respect to which +he stands most in need of knowledge or excitement from books. +If he can answer this question, he has gone very far towards +answering the question, ‘What book or books can I read with +satisfaction and profit?’” (Chap. iv, p. 39.)</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0007' id='Footnote_0007'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0007'><span class='label'>[7]</span></a> +<p>In deference to certain writers I employ their favorite term +“university” in contrast with the term “college,” yet I must own +I do not know what it means. An old signification is clear. A +university is an assemblage of schools, as our government is an +assemblage of states. In England, different corporations, giving +substantially similar instruction, are brought together by a common +body which confers the degrees. In this country, a group +of professional schools—law, medicine, theology, and science—are +associated through one governing body with the college proper, +that is, with the candidates for the B.A. degree. In this useful +sense, Tufts and Bowdoin are universities; Amherst and Brown, +colleges. But Germany, which has thrown so many parts of the +world into confusion, has introduced exaltation and mystery here. +A university now appears to mean “a college as good as it can be,” +a stimulating conception, but not a finished or precise one. I +would not disparage it. It is a term of aspiration, good to conjure +with. When we want to elevate men’s ideas, or to obtain their +dollars, it is well to talk about creating a true university: just as it +is wise to bid the forward-reaching boy to become “a true gentleman.”</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +<a name='X_NECESSARY_LIMITATIONS_OF_THE_ELECTIVE_SYSTEM' id='X_NECESSARY_LIMITATIONS_OF_THE_ELECTIVE_SYSTEM'></a> +<h3>X +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />NECESSARY LIMITATIONS OF THE ELECTIVE SYSTEM</span></h3> +</div> +<p>The preceding paper has sufficiently discussed +the impossible limitations of the elective system, and +has shown with some minuteness the grounds of +their impossibility. The methods there examined +are the only ones suggested by my critics. They all +agree in this, that they seek to narrow the scope of +choice. They try to combine with it a hostile factor, +and they differ merely in their mode of combination. +The first puts a restraining check before election; the +second puts one by its side; the third makes the two +inseparable by allowing nothing to be chosen which +is not first prescribed. The general purpose of all +these methods is mine also. Election must be limited. +Unchartered choice is licentious and self-destructive. +I quarrel with them only because the modes of effecting +their purpose tend to produce results of a transient +and inappropriate sort. The aim of education, +as I conceive it, is to spiritualize the largest possible +number of persons, that is, to teach them how to do +their own thinking and willing and to do it well. +But these methods effect something widely different. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +They either aristocratize where they should democratize, +or they belittle where they should mature, or +else they professionalize where they should humanize. +A common trouble besets them all: the limiting +authority is placed in external and arbitrary juxtaposition +to the personal initiative which it professes +to support. It should grow out of this initiative and +be its interpreter and realization. By limitation of +choice the proposers of these schemes appear to mean +making choice less. I mean fortifying it, keeping it +true to itself, making it more. Control that diminishes +the quantity of choice is one thing; control that +raises the quality, quite another. How important is +this distinction and how frequently it is forgotten! +Words like “limitation,” “control,” “authority,” +“obedience,” are words of majesty, but words also +of doubtful import. They carry a freight of wisdom +or of folly, according to the end towards which they +steer. In order to sanction or discard limitations +which induce obedience, we must bear that end in +mind. Let us stop a moment, and see that we have it +in mind now.</p> +<p>Old educational systems are often said to have +erred by excess of authority. I could not say so. The +elective system, if it is to possess the future, must become +as authoritative as they. More accurately we +say that their authority was of a wrong sort. A father +may exercise an authority over his child no less directive +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +than that of the master over the slave; but the +father is trying to accomplish something which the +master disregards; the father hopes to make the will +of another strong, the master to make it weak; the +father commands what the child himself would wish, +had he sufficient experience. The child’s obedience +accordingly enlightens, steadies, invigorates his independent +will. Invigoration is the purpose of the +command. The authority is akin—secretly akin—to +the child’s own desires. No alien power intervenes, +as when a slave obeys. Here a foreign will thwarts +the slave’s proper motions. Over against his own +legitimate desires, the desire of a totally different +being appears and claims precedence. Obedience +like this brings no ennoblement. The oftener a child +obeys, the less of a child is he; the oftener a slave, +the more completely he is a slave. Roughly to say, +then, that submission to authority is healthy for a +college boy, argues a mental confusion. There are +two kinds of authority,—the authority of moral +guidance, and the authority of repressive control: +parental authority, respecting and vivifying the individual +life and thus continually tending to supersede +itself; and masterly authority, whose command, +out of relation to the obeyer’s wish, tends ever to +bring the obedient into bondage. Which shall college +authority be? Authority is necessary, ever-present +authority. If the young man’s choice is to become +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +a thing of worth, it must be encompassed with limitations. +But as the need of these limitations springs +from the imperfections of choice, so should their +aim be to perfect choice, not to repress it. To impose +limitations which do not ultimately enlarge the +youth they bind is to make the means of education +“oblige against its main end.”</p> +<p>This moral authority is what the new education +seeks. To a casual eye, the colleges of to-day seem +to be growing disorganized; a closer view shows +construction taking place, but taking place along +the lines of the vital distinction just pointed out. +Men are striving to bring about a germane and ethical +authority in the room of the baser mechanical +authorities of the past. In this distinction, then, a +clue is to be found which, if followed up, will lead +us away from impossible limitations of the elective +system, and conduct us at length to the possible, +nay, to the inevitable ones. As the elective principle +is essentially ethical, its limitations, if helpfully congruous, +must be ethical too. They must be simply +the means of bringing home to the young chooser +the sacred conditions of choice; which conditions, +if I rightly understand them, may compactly be +entitled those of intentionality, information, and +persistence. To secure these conditions, limitations +exist. In the very nature of choice such conditions +are implied. Choice is sound as they prevail, whimsical +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +as they diminish. An education which lays +stress on the elective principle is bound to lay stress +on these conditions also. It cannot slip over into +lazy ways of letting its students drift, and still look +for credit as an elective system. People will distrust +it. That is why they distrust Harvard to-day. The +objections brought against the elective system of +Harvard are in reality not levelled against the elective +system at all. They are directed against its +bastard brother, <i>laissez-faire</i>. Objectors suspect that +the conditions of choice which I have named are not +fulfilled. They are not fulfilled, I confess, or rather +I stoutly maintain. To come anywhere near fulfilling +them requires long time and study, and action +unimpeded by a misconceiving community. Both +time and study Harvard has given, has given largely. +The records of scholarship and deportment which I +exhibited in my first paper show in how high a degree +Harvard has already been able to remove from +choice the capricious, ignorant, and unsteadfast +characteristics which rightly bring it into disrepute. +But much remains to do, and in that doing we are +hampered by the fact that a portion of the public is +still looking in wrong directions. It cannot get over +its hankering after the delusive modes of limitation +which I have discussed. It does not persistently see +that at present the proper work of education is the +study of means by which self-direction may be rendered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +safe. Leaders of education themselves see this +but dimly, as the papers of my critics naïvely show. +Until choice was frankly accepted as the fit basis +for the direction of a person by a person, its fortifying +limitations could not be studied. Now they +must be studied, now that the old methods of autocratic +control are breaking down. As a moral will +comes to be recognized as the best sort of steam +power, the modes of generating that power acquire +new claims to attention. Henceforth the training +of the will must be undertaken by the elective system +as an integral part of its discipline.</p> +<p>I am not so presumptuous as to attempt to prophesy +the precise forms which methods of moral guidance +will take. Moral guidance is a delicate affair. +Its spirit is more important than its procedure. +Flexibility is its strength. Methods final, rigid, and +minute do not belong to it. Nor can it afford to forget +the one great truth of <i>laissez-faire</i>, that wills +which are to be kept fresh and vigorous will not bear +much looking after. Time, too, is an important factor +in the shaping of moral influences. Experiments +now in progress at Harvard and elsewhere must +discriminate safe from unsafe limitations. Leaving +then to the future the task of showing how wide the +scope of maturing discipline may become, I will +merely try to sketch the main lines along which +experiments are now proceeding, I will give a few +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +illustrative examples of what is being done and why, +and I will state somewhat at large how, in my judgment, +more is yet to be accomplished. To make the +matter clear, a free exposition shall be given of the +puzzling headings already named; that is, I will first +ramblingly discuss the limitations on choice which +may deepen the student’s intentionality of aim; +secondly, those which increase his information in +regard to means; and thirdly, those which may +strengthen his persistence in a course once chosen.</p> +<p>I. That intentionality should be cultivated, I +need not spend many words in explaining. Everybody +acknowledges that without a certain degree of +it choice is impossible. Many persons assert also +that boys come to college with no clear intentions, +not knowing what they want, waiting to be told; +for such, it is said, an elective system is manifestly +absurd. I admit the fact. It is true. The majority +of the freshmen whom I have known in the last seventeen +years have been, at entrance, deficient in serious +aims. But from this fact I draw a conclusion quite +opposite to the one suggested. It is election, systematized +election, which these boys need; for when +we say a young student has no definite aims, we +imply that he has never become sufficiently interested +in any given intellectual line to have acquired the +wish to follow that line farther. Such a state of +things is lamentable, and certainly shows that prescribed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +methods—the proper methods, in my judgment, +for the school years—have in his case proved +inadequate. It is useless to continue them into +years confessedly less suited to their exercise. Perhaps +it is about equally useless to abandon the ill-formed +boy to unguided choice. Prescription says, +“This person is unfit to choose, keep him so”; +<i>laissez-faire</i> says, “If he is unfit to choose, let him +perish”; but a watchful elective system must say, +“Granting him to be unfit, if he is not spoiled, I will +fit him.” And can we fit him? I know well enough +that indifferent teachers incline to shirk the task. +They like to divide pupils into the deceptive classes +of good and bad, meaning by the former those who +intend to work, and by the latter those who intend +not to. But we must get rid of indifferent teachers. +Teachers with enthusiasm in them soon discover +that the two classes of pupils I have named may as +well be dismissed from consideration. Where aims +have become definite, a teacher has little more to +do. The boy who means to work will get learning +under the poorest teacher and the worst system; +while the boy who means not to work may be forced +up to the Pierian spring, but will hardly be made +to drink. A vigorous teacher does not assume intention +to be ready-made. He counts it his continual +office to help in making it. On the middle two +quarters of a class he spends his hardest efforts, on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +students who are friendly to learning but not impassioned +for it, on those who like the results of study +but like tennis also, and popularity, and cigars, +and slackness. The culture of these weak wills is +the problem of every college. Here are unintentional +boys waiting to be turned into intentional men. +What limitations on intellectual and moral vagrancy +will help them forward?</p> +<p>The chief limitation, the one underlying all others, +the one which no clever contrivance can ever supersede, +is vitalized teaching. Suitable subjects, attractively +taught, awake lethargic intention as nothing +else can. An elective system, as even its enemies +confess, enormously stimulates the zeal of teachers. +It consequently brings to bear on unawakened boys +influences of a strangely quickening character. When +I hear a man trained under the old methods of prescription +say, “At the time I was in college I could +not have chosen studies for myself, and I do not believe +my son can,” I see, and am not surprised to see, +that he does not understand what forces the elective +system sets astir. So powerful an influence have +these forces over both teachers and pupils, that questions +of hard and easy studies do not, as outsiders +are apt to suppose, seriously disturb the formation +of sound intentions. The many leaders in education +whose opinions on election I quoted in my +previous paper agree that the new modes tend to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +sobriety and intentionality of aim. When Professor +Ladd speaks of “the unexpected wisdom and manliness +of the choices already made” in the first year +of election at New Haven, he well expresses the gratified +surprise which every one experiences on perceiving +in the very constitution of the elective system a +sort of limitation on wayward choice. This limitation +seems to me, as Professor Ladd says he found +it,<a name='FNanchor_0008' id='FNanchor_0008'></a><a href='#Footnote_0008' class='fnanchor'>[8]</a> a tolerable preventive of choices directly aimed at +ease. In a community devoted to athletics, baseball +is not played because it is “soft,” and football avoided +on account of its difficulty. A similar state of things +must be brought about in studies. In a certain low +degree it has come about already. As election breeds +new life in teaching, the old slovenly habit of liking +best what costs least begins to disappear. Easy +courses will exist and ought to exist. Prescribed +colleges, it is often forgotten, have more of them than +elective colleges. The important matter is, to see that +they fall to the right persons. Where everything is +prescribed, students who do not wish easy studies +are still obliged to take them. Under election, soft +courses may often be pursued with advantage. A +student whose other courses largely depend for their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +profit on the amount of private reading or of laboratory +practice accomplished in connection with them +is wise in choosing one or more in which the bulk +of the work is taken by the teacher. I do not say +that soft courses are always selected with these wise +aims in view. Many I know are not. We have our +proper share of hardened loafers—“tares in our +sustaining corn”—who have an unerring instinct +as to where they can most safely settle. But large +numbers of the men in soft courses are there to good +purpose; and I maintain that the superficial study +of a subject, acquainting one with broad outlines, is +not necessarily a worthless study. At Harvard to-day +I believe we have too few such superficial courses. +As I look over the Elective Pamphlet, and note the +necessarily varying degrees of difficulty in the studies +announced there, I count but six which can, with any +justice, be entitled soft courses; and several of these +must be reckoned by anybody an inspiration to the +students who pursue them. There is a tendency +in the elective system, as I have shown elsewhere, +to reduce the number of soft courses somewhat below +the desirable number.</p> +<p>I insist, therefore, that under a pretty loose elective +system boys are little disposed to intentionally +vicious choices. My fears look in a different direction. +I do not expect depravity, but I want to head +off aimless trifling. I agree with the opponents of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +election in thinking that there is danger, especially +during the early years of college life, that righteous +intention may not be distinct and energetic. Boys +drift. Inadequate influences induce their decisions. +The inclinations of the clique in which a young +man finds himself are, without much thought, accepted +as his own. Heedlessness is the young man’s +bane. It should not be mistaken for vice; the two +are different. A boy who will enter a dormitory at +twelve o’clock at night, and go to the third story +whistling and beating time on the banisters, certainly +seems a brutish person; but he is ordinarily a kind +enough fellow, capable of a good deal of self-sacrifice +when brought face to face with need. He simply +does not think. So it is in study: there, too, he does +not think. Now in college a boy should learn perpetually +to think; and an excellent way of helping +him to learn is to ask him often what he is thinking +about. The object of the questioning should not be +to thwart the boy’s aims, rather to insure that they +are in reality his own. Essentially his to the last they +should remain, even though intrinsically they may not +be the best. Young persons, much more than their +elders, require to talk over plans from time to time +with an experienced critic, in order to learn by degrees +the difficult art of planning. By such talk intentionality +is fortified. There is much of this talk +already; talk of younger students with older, talk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +with wise persons at home, and more and more every +year with the teachers of the courses left and the +courses entered. All this is good. Haphazard modes +breed an astonishing average of choices that possess +a meaning. The waste of a <i>laissez-faire</i> system comes +nowhere near the waste of a prescribed. But what is +good when compared with a bad thing may be poor +when compared with excellence itself. We must go +on. A college, like a man, should always be saying, +“Never was I so good as to-day, and never again will +I be so bad.” We must welcome criticisms more than +praises, and seek after our weak points as after hid +treasures. The elective system seems to me weak at +present through lacking organized means of bringing +the student and his intentions face to face. Intentions +grow by being looked at. At the English universities +a young man on entering a college is put in charge +of a special tutor, without whose consent he can do +little either in the way of study or of personal management.<a name='FNanchor_0009' id='FNanchor_0009'></a><a href='#Footnote_0009' class='fnanchor'>[9]</a> +Dependence so extreme is perhaps better +suited to an infant school than to an American +college; and even in England, where respectful subservience +on the part of the young has been cultivated +for generations, the system is losing ground. Since +the tutors were allowed to marry and to leave the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +college home, tutorial influence has been changing. +In most American colleges twenty-five years ago +there were officers known as class tutors, to whom, +in case of need, a student might turn. Petty permissions +were received from these men, instead of from +a mechanical central office. So far as this plan set +personal supervision in the place of routine it was, +in my eyes, good. But the relation of a class tutor to +his boys was usually one of more awe than friendship. +At the Johns Hopkins University there is a +board of advisers, to some member of which each +student is assigned at entrance. The adviser stands +<i>in loco parentis</i> to his charges. The value of such +adjustments depends on the nature of the parental +tie. If the relation is worked so as to stimulate the +student’s independence, it is good; if so as to discharge +him from responsibility, it unfits for the life +that follows. At Harvard special students not candidates +for a degree have recently been put in charge +of a committee, to whom they are obliged to report +their previous history and their plans of study for +each succeeding year. The committee must know +at all times what their charges are doing. Something +of this sort, I am convinced, will be demanded at +no distant day, as a means of steadying all students +in elective colleges. Large personal supervision +need not mean diminution of freedom. A young man +may possess his freedom more solidly if he recognizes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +an obligation to state and defend the reasons +which induce his choice. For myself, I should be +willing to make the functions of such advisory committees +somewhat broad. As a college grows, the +old ways of bringing about acquaintance between +officers and students become impracticable. But the +need of personal acquaintance, unhappily, does not +cease. New ways should be provided. A boy dropped +into the middle of a large college must not be lost to +sight; he must be looked after. To allow the teacher’s +work of instruction to become divorced from his pastoral, +his priestly, function is to cheapen and externalize +education. I would have every student in +college supplied with somebody who might serve as +a discretionary friend; and I should not think it a +disadvantage that such an expectation of friendship +would be as apt to better the instructor as the student.</p> +<p>Before leaving this part of my subject, I may +mention a subordinate, but still valuable, means of +limiting choice so as to increase its intentionality. +The studies open to choice in the early years should +be few and elementary. The significance of advanced +courses cannot be understood till elementary +ones are mastered, and immature choice should not +be confused by many issues. At Harvard this mode +of limitation is largely employed. Although the +elective list for 1886-87 shows 172 courses, a freshman +has hardly more than one eighth of these to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +choose from; in any given case this number will +probably be reduced about one half by insufficient +preparation or conflict of hours. Seemingly about a +third of the list is offered to the average sophomore; +but this amount is again cut down nearly one half +by the operation of similar causes. The practice of +hedging electives with qualifications is a growing +one. It may well grow more. It offers guidance precisely +at the point where it is most needed. It protects +rational choice, and guards against many of +the dangers which the foes of election justly dread.</p> +<p>II. A second class of limitations of the elective +system, possible and friendly, springs from the need +of furnishing the young elector ample information +about that which he is to choose. The best intentions +require judicious aim. If studies are taken in +the dark, without right anticipation of their subject-matter, +or in ignorance of their relation to other +studies, small results follow. Here, I think it will be +generally agreed, prescribed systems are especially +weak. Their pupils have little knowledge beforehand +of what a course is designed to accomplish. Work is +undertaken blindly, minds consenting as little as +wills. An elective system is impossible under such +conditions. Its student must know when he chooses, +what he chooses. He must be able to estimate +whether the choice of Greek 5 will further his designs +better than the choice of Greek 8.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></div> +<p>At Harvard, methods of furnishing information +are pretty fully developed. In May an elective pamphlet +is issued, which announces everything that is +to be taught in the college during the following year. +Most departments, also, issue additional pamphlets, +describing with much detail the nature of their special +courses, and the considerations which should lead a +student to one rather than another. If the courses +of a department are arranged properly, pursuing one +gives the most needful knowledge about the available +next. This knowledge is generally supplemented at +the close of the year by explanations on the part of +the instructor about the courses that follow. In the +Elective Pamphlet a star, prefixed to courses of an +advanced and especially technical character, indicates +that the instructor must be privately consulted +before these courses can be chosen. Consultations +with instructors about all courses are frequent. +That most effective means of distributing information, +the talk of students, goes on unceasingly. With time, +perhaps, means may be devised for informing a +student more largely what he is choosing. The fullest +information is desirable. That which is at present +most needed is, I think, some rough indication of +the relations of the several provinces of study to one +another. Information of this sort is peculiarly hard +to supply, because the knowledge on which it professes +to rest cannot be precise and unimpeachable. We +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +deal here with intricate problems, in regard to which +experts are far from agreed, problems where the different +point of view provided in the nature of each +individual will rightly readjust whatever general +conclusions are drawn. The old type of college had +an easy way of settling these troublesome matters +dogmatically, by voting, in open faculty-meeting, +what should be counted the normal sequence of +studies, and what their mixture. But as the votes of +different colleges showed no uniformity, people have +gradually come to perceive that the subject is one +where only large outlines can distinctly be made out.<a name='FNanchor_0010' id='FNanchor_0010'></a><a href='#Footnote_0010' class='fnanchor'>[10]</a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +To these large outlines I think it important to direct +the attention of undergraduates. In most German +universities a course of <i>Encyclopädie</i> is offered, a +course which gives in brief a survey of the sciences, +and attempts to fix approximately the place of each +in the total organization of knowledge. I am not +aware that such a course exists in any American +college. Indeed, there was hardly a place for it till +dogmatic prescription was shaken. But if something +of the kind were now established in the freshman +year, our young men might be relieved of a certain +intellectual short-sightedness, and the choices of one +year might better keep in view those of the other three.</p> +<p>III. And now granting that a student has started +with good intentions and is well informed about the +direction where profit lies, still have we any assurance +that he will push those intentions with a fair +degree of tenacity through the distractions which beset +his daily path? We need, indeed we must have, +a third class of helpful limitations which may secure +the persistent adhesion of our student to his chosen +line of work. Probably this class of limitations is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +the most important and complex of all. To yield +a paying return, study must be stuck to. A decision +has little meaning unless the volition of to-day brings +in its train a volition to-morrow. Self-direction implies +such patient continuance in well-doing that +only after persistence has become somewhat habitual +can choice be called mature. To establish onward-leading +habits, therefore, should be one of the +chief objects in devising limitations of election. +Only we must not mistake; we must look below the +surface. Mechanical diligence often covers mental +sloth. It is not habits of passive docility that are +desirable, habits of timidity and uncriticising acceptance. +Against forming these pernicious and easily +acquired habits, it may be necessary even to erect +barriers. The habit wanted is the habit of spontaneous +attack. Prescription deadened this vital habit; +it mechanized. His task removed, the student had +little independent momentum. Election invigorates +the springs of action. Formerly I did not see this, and +I favored prescribed systems, thinking them systems +of duty. That absence of an aggressive intellectual +life which prescribed studies induce, I, like +many others, mistook for faithfulness. Experience +has instructed me. I no longer have any question +that for the average man sound habits of steady endeavor +grow best in fields of choice. Emerson’s +words are words of soberness:—</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></div> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>He that worketh high and wise</p> +<p class='indent4'>Nor pauses in his plan,</p> +<p>Will take the sun out of the skies</p> +<p class='indent4'>Ere freedom out of man.</p> +</div></div> +<p>Furthermore, in attempting to stimulate persistence +I believe we must ultimately rely on the rational +interest in study which we can arouse and hold. +Undoubtedly much can be done to save this interest +from disturbance and to hold vacillating attention +fixed upon it; but it, and it alone, is to be the +driving force. Methods of college government must +be reckoned wise as they push into the foreground +the intrinsic charm of wisdom, mischievous as they +hide it behind fidelity to technical demand. In other +matters we readily acknowledge interest as an efficient +force. We call it a force as broad as the worth +of knowledge, and as deep as the curiosity of man. +“Put your heart into your work,” we say, “if you +will make it excellent.” A dozen proverbs tell that +it is love that makes the world go round. Every +employment of life springs from an underlying desire. +The cricketer wants to win the game; the +fisherman to catch fish; the farmer to gather crops; +the merchant to make money; the physician to cure +his patient; the student to become wise. Eliminate +desire, put in its place allegiance to the rules of a +game, and what, in any of these cases, would be the +chance of persistent endeavor? It seems almost a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +truism to say that limitations of personal effort designed +to strengthen persistency must be such as will +heighten the wish and clear its path to its object.</p> +<p>Obvious as is the truth here presented, it seems +in some degree to have escaped the attention of my +critics. After showing that the grade of scholarship +at Harvard steadily rises, that our students become +more decorous and their methods of work less childish, +I stated that, under an extremely loose mode +of regulating attendance five sixths of the exercises +were attended by all our men, worst and best, sick +and well, most reckless and most discreet. Few portions +of my obnoxious paper have occasioned a louder +outcry. I am told of a neighboring college where +the benches show but three per cent of absentees. +I wonder what the percentage is in Charlestown +State Prison. Nobody doubts that attendance will +be closer if compelled. But the interesting question +still remains, “Are students by such means learning +habits of spontaneous regularity?” This question +can be answered only when the concealing restraint +is removed. It has been removed at Harvard,—in +my judgment too largely removed,—and the +great body of our students is seen to desire learning +and to desire it all the time. Is it certain that the +students of other colleges, if left with little or no +restraint, would show a better record? The point +of fidelity and regularity, it is said, is of supreme +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +importance. So it is. But fidelity and regularity in +study, not in attending recitations. If ever the Harvard +system is perfected, so that students here are +as eager for knowledge as the best class of German +university men, I do not believe we shall see a lower +rate of absence; only then, each absence will be used, +as it is not at present, for a studious purpose. The +modern teacher stimulates private reading, exacts +theses, directs work in libraries. Pupils engaged in +these things are not dependent on recitations as text-book +schoolboys are. The grade of higher education +cannot rise much so long as the present extreme +stress is laid on appearance in the class-room.</p> +<p>In saying this I would not be understood to defend +the method of dealing with absences which has +for some years been practised at Harvard. I think +the method bad. I have always thought it so, and +have steadily favored a different system. The behavior +of our students under a regulation so loose +seems to me a striking testimony to the scholarly spirit +prevalent here. As such I mentioned it in my first +paper, and as such I would again call attention to it. +But I am not satisfied with the present good results. +I want to impress on every student that absence from +the class-room can be justified by nothing short of +illness or a scholarly purpose. For a gainful purpose +the merchant is occasionally absent from his office; +for a gainful purpose a scholar of mine may omit a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +recitation. But Smith can be absent profitably when +Brown would meet with loss. I accordingly object +to methods of limiting absence which exact the same +numerical regularity of all. College records may look +clean, yet students be learning little about duty. +Limitation, in my judgment, should be so adjusted +as to strengthen the man’s personal adhesion to +plans of daily study. Such limitations cannot be +fixed by statute and worked by a single clerk. Moral +discipline is not a thing to be supplied by wholesale. +Professors must be individually charged with the +oversight of their men. I would have excuses for +occasional absence made to the instructor, and I +should expect him to count it a part of his work to +see that the better purposes of his scholars did not +grow feeble. A professor who exercised such supervisory +power slackly would make his course the +resort of the indolent; one who was over-stringent +would see himself deserted by indolent and earnest +alike. My rule would be that no student be allowed +to present himself at an examination who could +not show his teacher’s certificate that his attendance +on daily work was satisfactory. Traditions in this +country and in Germany are so different that I +should have confidence in a method working well +here though it worked ill there. At any rate, whenever +it fell into decay, it could—a proviso necessary +in all moral matters—be readjusted. A rule something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +like this the Harvard Faculty has recently +adopted by voting that “any instructor, with the approval +of the Dean, may at any time exclude from +his course any student who in his judgment has +neglected the work of the course.” Probably the +amount of absence which has hitherto occurred at +Harvard will under this vote diminish.</p> +<p>Suppose, then, by these limitations on a student’s +caprice we have secured his persistence in outward +endeavor, still one thing more is needed. We have +brought him bodily to a recitation room; but his +mind must be there too, his aroused and active mind. +Limitations that will secure this slippery part of the +person are difficult to devise. Nevertheless, they are +worth studying. Their object is plain. They are to +lead a student to do something every day; to aid +him to overcome those tendencies to procrastination, +self-confidence, and passive absorption which are +the regular and calculable dangers of youth. They +are to teach him how not to cram, to inspire him with +respect for steady effort, and to enable him each year +to find such effort more habitual to himself. These +are hard tasks. The old education tried to meet +them by the use of daily recitations, a plan not without +advantages. The new education is preserving +the valuable features of recitations by adopting and +developing the <i>Seminar</i>. But recitations pure and +simple have serious drawbacks. They presuppose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +a text-book, which, while it brings definiteness, brings +also narrowness of view. The learner masters a book, +not a subject. After-life possesses nothing analogous +to the text-book. A struggling man wins what he +wants from many books, from his own thought, from +frequent consultations. Why should not a student +be disciplined in the ways he must afterwards employ? +Moreover, recitations have the disadvantage +that no large number of men can take part on any +single day. The times of trial either become amenable +to reckoning, or, in order to prevent reckoning, +a teacher must resort to schemes which do not commend +him to his class. Undoubtedly in recitation +the reciter gains, but the gains of the rest of the class +are small. The listeners would be more profited +by instruction. An hour with an expert should carry +students forward; to occupy it in ascertaining where +they now stand is wasteful. For all these reasons +there has been of late years a strong reaction against +recitations. Lectures have been introduced, and the +time formerly spent by a professor in hearing boys +is now spent by boys in hearing a professor. Plainly +in this there is a gain, but a gain which needs careful +limitation if the student’s persistence in work is to +be retained. A pure lecture system is a broad road +to ignorance. Students are entertained or bored, +but at the end of a month they know little more than +at the beginning. Lectures always seem to me an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +inheritance from the days when books were not. +Learning—how often must it be said!—is not +acceptance; it is criticism, it is attack, it is doing. +An active element is everywhere involved in it. Personal +sanction is wanted for every step. One who +will grow wise must perform processes himself, not +sit at ease and behold another’s performance.</p> +<p>These simple truths are now tolerably understood +at Harvard. There remain in the college few courses +of pure recitations or of pure lectures. I wish all were +forbidden by statute. In almost all courses, in one +way or another, frequent opportunity is given the +student to show what he is doing. In some, especially +in elementary courses, lectures run parallel with a +text-book. In some, theses, that is, written discussions, +are exacted monthly, half-yearly, annually, in addition +to examinations. In some, examinations are +frequent. In some, a daily question, to be answered +in writing on the spot, is offered to the whole class. +Often, especially in philosophical subjects, the hour +is occupied with debate between officer and students. +More and more, physical subjects are taught by the +laboratory, linguistic and historical by the library. +In a living university a great variety of methods +spring up, according to the nature of the subject and +the personality of the teacher. Variety should exist. +In constantly diversified ways each student should +be assured that he is expected to be doing something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +all the time, and that somebody besides himself +knows what he is doing. As yet this assurance is not +attained; we can only claim to be working toward it. +Every year we discover some fresh limitation which +will make persistence more natural, neglect more +strange. I believe study at Harvard is to-day more +interested, energetic, and persistent than it has ever +been before. But that is no ground for satisfaction. +A powerful college must forever be dissatisfied. Each +year it must address itself anew to strengthening the +tenacity of its students in their zeal for knowledge.</p> +<p>By the side of these larger limitations in the interest +of persistency, it may be well to mention one or two +examples of smaller ones which have the same end +in view. By some provision it must be made difficult +to withdraw from a study once chosen. Choice +should be deliberate and then be final. It probably +will not be deliberate unless it is understood to be +final. A few weeks may be allowed for an inspection +of a chosen course, but at the close of the first month’s +teaching the Harvard Faculty tie up their students +and allow change only on petition and for the most +convincing cause. An elective college which did not +make changes of electives difficult would be an engine +for discouraging intentionality and persistence.</p> +<p>I incline to think, too, that a regulation forbidding +elementary courses in the later years would render +our education more coherent. In this matter elective +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +colleges have an opportunity which prescribed ones +miss. In order to be fair to all the sciences, college +faculties are obliged to scatter fragments of them +throughout the length and breadth of prescribed +curricula. Twenty-five years ago every Harvard +man waited till his senior year before beginning +philosophy, acoustics, history, and political economy. +To-day the fourteen other New England colleges, +most of whom, like the Harvard of twenty-five years +ago, offer a certain number of elective studies, still +show senior years largely occupied with elementary +studies. Five forbid philosophy before the senior +year; eight, political economy; two, history; six, +geology. Out of the seven colleges which offer some +one of the eastern languages, all except Harvard +oblige the alphabet to be learned in the senior year. +Of the six which offer Italian or Spanish, Harvard +alone permits a beginning to be made before the junior +year, while two take up these languages for the first +time in the senior year. In three New England +colleges German cannot be begun till the junior year. +In a majority, a physical subject is begun in the junior +and another in the senior year. At Yale nobody but +a senior can study chemistry. Such postponement, +and by consequence such fragmentary work, may be +necessary where early college years are crowded with +prescribed studies. But an elective system can employ +its later years to better advantage. It can bring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +to a mature understanding the interests which freshmen +and sophomores have already acquired. Elementary +studies are not maturing studies; they do +not make the fibre of a student firm. To studies of +a solidifying sort the last years should be devoted. +I should like to forbid seniors to take any elementary +study whatever, and to forbid juniors all except +philosophy, political economy, history, fine arts, +Sanskrit, Hebrew, and law. Under such a rule we +should graduate more men who would be first rate +at something; and a man who is first rate at something +is generally pretty good at anything.</p> +<p>Such, then, are a few examples of the ways in +which choice may be limited so as to become strong. +They are but examples, intended merely to draw +attention to the three kinds of limitation still possible. +Humble ways they may seem, not particularly +interesting to hear about; business methods one +might call them. But by means of these and such as +these the young scholar becomes clearer in intention, +larger in information, hardier in persistence. In +urging such means I shall be seen to be no thick and +thin advocate of election. That I have never been. +Originally a doubter, I have come to regard the +elective system, that is, election under such limitations +as I have described, as the safest—indeed as +the only possible—course which education can now +take, I advocate it heartily as a system which need +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +not carry us too fast or too far in any one direction, +as a system so inherently flexible that its own great +virtues readily unite with those of an alien type. +Under its sheltering charge the worthier advantages +of both grouped and prescribed systems are attainable. +I proclaim it, therefore, not as a popular cry +nor as an educational panacea, but as a sober opportunity +for moral and intellectual training. Limited +as it is at Harvard, I see that it works admirably with +the studious, stimulatingly with those of weaker will, +not unendurably with the depraved. These are great +results. They cannot be set aside by calling them +the outcome of “individualism.” In a certain sense +they are. But “individualism” is an uncertain term. +In every one of us there is a contemptible individuality, +grounded in what is ephemeral and capriciously +personal. Systematic election, as I have shown, puts +limitations on this. But there is a noble individuality +which should be the object of our fostering care. +Nothing that lends it strength and fineness can be +counted trivial. To form a true individuality is, +indeed, the ideal of the elective system. Let me +briefly sketch my conception of that ideal.</p> +<p>George Herbert, praising God for the physical +world which He has made, says that in it “all things +have their will, yet none but thine.” Such a free +harmony between thinking man and a Lord of his +thought it is the office of education to bring about. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +At the start it does not exist. The child is aware of +his own will, and he is aware of little else. He imagines +that one pleasing fancy may be willed as easily +as another. As he matures, he discovers that his +will is effective when it accords with the make of the +world and ineffective when it does not. This discovery, +bringing as it does increased respect for the +make of the world and even for its Maker, degrades +or ennobles according as the facts of the world are +now viewed as restrictive finalities or as an apparatus +for larger self-expression. Seeing the power of that +which is not himself, a man may become passively +receptive, and say, “Then I am to have no will of +my own”; or he may become newly energetic, knowing +that though he can have no will of his separate +own, yet all the power of God is his if he will but understand. +A man of the latter sort is spiritually educated. +Much still remains to be done in understanding +special laws; and with each fresh understanding, +a fresh possibility of individual life is disclosed. +The worth, however, of the whole process lies in the +man’s honoring his own will, but honoring it only as +it grows strong through accordance with the will of +God.</p> +<p>Now into our colleges comes a mixed multitude +made up of all the three classes named: the childish, +who imagine they can will anything; the docile, +so passive in the presence of an ordered world that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +they have little individual will left; the spiritually-minded +or original, who with strong interests of their +own seek to develop these through living contact with +truths which they have not made. Our educational +modes must meet them all, respecting their wills +wherever wise, and teaching the feeble to discriminate +fanciful from righteous desires. For carrying +forward such a training the elective system seems to +me to have peculiar aptitudes. What I have called +its limitations will be seen to be spiritual assistances. +To the further invention of such there is no end. A +watchful patience is the one great requisite, patience +in directors, instructed criticism on the part of the +public, and a brave expression of confidence when +confidence is seen to have been earned.</p> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0008' id='Footnote_0008'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0008'><span class='label'>[8]</span></a> +<p>Doubtless some have carried out the intention of making +everything as soft as possible for themselves. But the choices, in +fact, do not as yet show the existence of any such intention in any +considerable number of cases; they show rather the very reverse.—Professor +Ladd in <i>The New Englander</i>, January, 1885, p. 119.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0009' id='Footnote_0009'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0009'><span class='label'>[9]</span></a> +<p>As the minute personal care given to individual students in +the English universities is often and deservedly praised, I may as +well say that it costs something. Oxford spends each year about +$2,000,000 on 2500 men; Harvard, $650,000 on 1700.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0010' id='Footnote_0010'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0010'><span class='label'>[10]</span></a> +<p>I may not have a better opportunity than this to clear up a +petty difficulty which seems to agitate some of my critics. They say +they want the degree of A.B. to mean something definite, while +at present, under the elective system, it means one thing for John +Doe, and something altogether different for his classmate, Richard +Roe. That is true. Besides embodying the general signification +that the bearer has been working four years in a way to satisfy +college guardians, the stately letters do take on an individual variation +of meaning for every man who wins them. They must do so +as long as we are engaged in the formation of living persons. If +the college were a factory, our case would be different. We might +then offer a label which would keep its identity of meaning for all +the articles turned out. Wherever education has been a living +thing, the single degree has always contained this element of variety. +The German degree is as diverse in meaning as ours. The +degree of the English university is diverse, and more diverse for +Honors men—the only ones who can properly be said to deserve it—than +for inert Pass men. Degrees in this country have, from +the first, had considerable diversity, college differing from college +in requirement, and certainly student from student in attainment. +That twenty-five years ago we were approaching too great uniformity +in the signification of degrees, I suppose most educators +now admit. That was a mechanical and stagnant period, and men +have brought over from it to the more active days of the present +ideals formed then. Precision of statement goes with figures, +with etiquette, with military matters; but descriptions of the +quality of persons must be stated in the round.</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +<a name='XI_COLLEGE_EXPENSES' id='XI_COLLEGE_EXPENSES'></a> +<h3>XI +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />COLLEGE EXPENSES<a name='FNanchor_0011' id='FNanchor_0011'></a><a href='#Footnote_0011' class='fnanchor'>[11]</a></span></h3> +</div> +<p>The subject of college expenses has been much +debated lately. At our Commencement dinner, a year +ago, attention was called to it. Our chairman on that +occasion justly insisted that the ideal of the University +should be plain living and high thinking. And +certainly there is apt to be something vulgar, as well +as vicious, in the man of books who turns away from +winning intellectual wealth and indulges in tawdry +extravagance. Yet every friend of Harvard is obliged +to acknowledge with shame that the loose spender +has a lodging in our yard. No clear-sighted observer +can draw near and not perceive that in all his native +hideousness the man of the club and the dog-cart is +among us.</p> +<p>I do not think this strange. In fact, I regard it as +inevitable. It is necessarily connected with our growth. +The old College we might compare, for moral and +intellectual range, with a country village; our present +University is a great city, and we must accept +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +the many-sided life, the temptations as well as the +opportunities, of the great city. Probably nowhere +on this planet can a thousand young men be found, +between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four, who +will not show examples of the heedless, the temptable, +and the depraved. Let us not, then, shrink from +acknowledging the ugly fact; extravagance is here,—shameless, +coarse extravagance. I hope nothing +I say may diminish our sense of its indecency. But +how widespread is it? We must not lose sight of that +important question. How largely does it infect the +College? Are many students large spenders? Must +a man of moderate means on coming here be put to +shame? Will he find himself a disparaged person, +out of accord with the spirit of the place, and unable +to obtain its characteristic advantages? These +are the weighty questions. Only after we have answered +them can we determine the moral soundness +of the University. Wherever we go on earth we shall +find the insolently rich and wasteful. They, like the +poor, are always with us; their qualities are cheap. +But what we want to know is whether, side by side +with them, we have a company of sober men, who +care for higher things and who spend no more than +the higher things require. Facts of proportion and +degree form the firm basis of general judgments, +and yet I am aware that these are the hardest facts to +obtain. Hitherto nobody has known any such facts +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +in regard to the expenses of Harvard. Assertions +about the style of living here have only expressed +the personal opinion of the assertor, or at best have +been generalizations from a few chance cases. No +systematic evidence on the subject has existed. It +is time it did exist, and I have made an attempt to +obtain it. To each member of the graduating class +I sent a circular, a month ago, asking if he would +be willing to tell me in confidence what his college +course had cost. I desired him to include in his report +all expenses whatever. He was to state not merely +his tuition, board, and lodging, but also his furniture, +books, clothing, travel, subscriptions, and amusements; +in fact, every dollar he had spent during the +four years of his study, except his charges for Class +Day and the summer vacations; these times varying so +widely, it seemed to me, in their cost to different men +that they could not instructively enter into an average.</p> +<p>The reply has been very large indeed. To my +surprise, out of a class of two hundred and thirty-five +men actually in residence, two hundred and +nineteen, or ninety-three per cent, have sent reports. +Am I wrong in supposing that this very general +“readiness to tell” is itself a sign of upright conduct? +But I would not exaggerate the worth of the +returns. They cannot be trusted to a figure. It has +not been possible to obtain itemized statements. +College boys, like other people, do not always keep +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +accounts. But I requested my correspondents, in +cases of uncertainty, always to name the larger figure; +and though those who have lived freely probably +have less knowledge about what they have spent +than have their economical classmates, I think we +may accept their reports in the rough. We can +be reasonably sure whether they have exceeded or +fallen below a certain medium line, and for purposes +more precise I shall not attempt to use them. Anything +like minute accuracy I wish expressly to repudiate. +The evidence I offer only claims to be the +best that exists at present; and I must say that the +astonishing frankness and fulness of the reports give +me strong personal assurance of the good faith of +the writers. In these letters I have seen a vivid +picture of the struggles, the hopes, the errors, and the +repentings of the manly young lives that surround me.</p> +<p>What, then, are the results? Out of the two +hundred and nineteen men who have replied, fifty-six, +or about one quarter of the class, have spent +between $450 and $650 in each of the four years +of residence; fifty-four, or again about a quarter, +have spent between $650 and $975; but sixty-one, +hardly more than a quarter, have spent a larger +sum than $1200. The smallest amount in any one +year was $400; the largest, $4000.<a name='FNanchor_0012' id='FNanchor_0012'></a><a href='#Footnote_0012' class='fnanchor'>[12]</a></p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span></div> +<p>I ask you to consider these figures. They are not +startling, but they seem to me to indicate that a +soberly sensible average of expense prevails at Harvard. +They suggest that students are, after all, +merely young men temporarily removed from homes, +and that they are practising here, without violent +change, the habits which the home has formed. +Those who have been accustomed to large expenditure +spend freely here; those of quiet and considerate +habits do not lightly abandon them. I doubt +if during the last twenty-five years luxury has increased +in the colleges as rapidly as it has in the +outside world.</p> +<p>There is no reason, either, to suppose that the +addition of the sixteen men who have not replied +would appreciably affect my results. The standing +of these men on the last annual rank-list was sixty-eight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +per cent. They seem to me average persons. +Their silence I attribute to mistakes of the mail, to +business, to neglect, or to the very natural disinclination +to disclose their private affairs. To refuse +to answer my intrusive questions, or even to acknowledge +that college days were costly, is not in itself +evidence of wantonness. Small spenders are usually +high scholars; but this is by no means always the +case. In the most economical group I found seven +who did not reach a rank of seventy per cent. last +year; whereas out of the seven largest spenders of +the class three passed seventy-five per cent. It +would be rash to conclude that large sums cannot +be honorably employed.</p> +<p>But it may seem that the smallest of the sums +named is large for a poor man. It may be believed +that even after restraint and wisdom are used, Harvard +remains the college of the rich. There is much +in our circumstances to make it so. An excellent +education is unquestionably a costly thing, and to +live where many men wish to live calls for a good +deal of money. We have, it is true, this splendid +hall, which lessens our expense for food and encompasses +us with ennobling influences; but it costs +$150 a year to board here. Our tuition bill each year +is $150. The University owns 450 rooms; but not +a third of them rent for less than $150 a year, the +average rent being $146. These large charges for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +tuition and room-rent are made necessary by the +smallness of the general fund which pays the running +expenses of the college. Very few of the professorships +are endowed, and so the tuition-fee and +room-rent must mainly carry the expenses of teaching.</p> +<p>Still, there is another side to the story. Thus far +I have figured out the expenses, and have said +nothing about the means of meeting them. Perhaps +to get the advantages of Harvard a student may +need to spend largely; but a certain circumstance +enables him to do so,—I mean the matchless +benevolence of those who have preceded us here. +The great sums intrusted to us for distribution in +prizes, loan-funds, and scholarships make it possible +for our students to offset the cost of their education +to such a degree that the net output of a poor +boy here is probably less than in most New England +colleges. At any rate, I have asked a large number +of poor students why they came to expensive Harvard, +and again and again I have received the reply: +“I could not afford to go elsewhere.”</p> +<p>The magnitude of this beneficiary aid I doubt +if people generally understand, and I have accordingly +taken pains to ascertain what was the amount +given away this year. I find that to undergraduates +alone it was $36,000; to members of the graduate +department, $11,000; and to the professional schools +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +$6000: making in a single year a total of assistance +to students of the University of more than $53,000. +Next year this enormous sum will be increased +$13,000 by the munificent bequest of Mr. Price +Greenleaf. Fully to estimate the favorable position +of the poor man at Harvard, we should take +into account also the great opportunities for earning +money through private tuition, through innumerable +avenues of trade, and through writing for the +public press. A large number of my correspondents +tell of money earned outside their scholarships.<a name='FNanchor_0013' id='FNanchor_0013'></a><a href='#Footnote_0013' class='fnanchor'>[13]</a></p> +<p>These immense aids provided for our students +maintain a balance of conditions here, and enable +even the poorest to obtain a Harvard education. And +what an education it is; how broad and deep and +individually stimulating,—the most truly American +education which the continent affords! But I have +no need to eulogize it. It has already entered into +the very structure of you who listen. Let me rather +close with two pieces of advice.</p> +<p>The first shall be to parents. Give your son a +competent allowance when you send him to Harvard, +and oblige him to stick to it. To learn calculation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +will contribute as much to his equipment +for life as any elective study he can pursue; and +calculation he will not learn unless, after a little +experience, you tell him precisely what sum he is to +receive. If in a haphazard way you pour $2000 into +his pocket, then in an equally haphazard way $2000 +will come out. Whatever extravagance exists at +Harvard to-day is the fault of you foolish parents. +The college, as a college, cannot stop extravagance. +It cannot take away a thousand dollars from your +son and tell him—what would be perfectly true—that +he will be better off with the remaining thousand; +that you must do yourselves. And if you ask, +“What is a competent allowance?” out of what +my correspondents say I will frame you five answers. +If your son is something of an artist in economy, +he may live here on $600, or less; he will require +to be an artist to accomplish it. If he will live +closely, carefully, yet with full regard to all that is +required, he may do so, with nearly half his class, on +not more than $800. If you wish him to live at ease +and to obtain the many refinements which money +will purchase, give him $1000. Indeed, if I were a +very rich man, and had a boy whose character I +could trust, so that I could be sure that all he laid +out would be laid out wisely, I might add $200 +more, for the purchase of books and other appliances +of delicate culture. But I should be sure that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +every dollar I gave him over $1200 would be a dollar +of danger.</p> +<p>Let my second piece of advice be to all of you +graduates. When you meet a poor boy, do not rashly +urge him to come to Harvard. Estimate carefully +his powers. If he is a good boy,—docile, worthy, +commonplace,—advise him to go somewhere else. +Here he will find himself borne down by large expense +and by the crowd who stand above him. But +whenever you encounter a poor boy of eager, aggressive +mind, a youth of energy, one capable of feeling +the enjoyment of struggling with a multitude and +of making his merit known, say to him that Harvard +College is expressly constituted for such as he. +Here he will find the largest provision for his needs +and the clearest field for his talents. Money is a +power everywhere. It is a power here; but a power +of far more restricted scope than in the world at +large. In this magnificent hall rich and poor dine +together daily. At the Union they debate together. +At the clubs which foster special interests,—the +Finance Club, the Philological Club, the Philosophical +Club, the French Club, the Signet, and the O. K.—considerations +of money have no place. If the +poor man is a man of muscle, the athletic organizations +will welcome him; if a man skilled in words, +he will be made an editor of the college papers; and +if he has the powers that fit him for such a place, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +whole body of his classmates will elect him Orator, +Ivy Orator, Odist, or Poet, without the slightest regard +to whether his purse is full or empty. The poor +man, it is true, will not be chosen for ornamental +offices, for positions which imply an acquaintance +with etiquette, and he may be cut off from intimacy +with the frequenters of the ballroom and the opera; +but as he will probably have little time or taste for +these things, his loss will not be large. In short, if he +has anything in him,—has he scholarship, brains, +wit, companionability, stout moral purpose, or quiet +Christian character,—his qualities will find as +prompt a recognition at Harvard as anywhere on +earth.</p> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0011' id='Footnote_0011'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0011'><span class='label'>[11]</span></a> +<p>Delivered in Memorial Hall, Cambridge, June 29, 1887. Since +this date the scale of expenditure in college, as elsewhere, has been +steadily rising.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0012' id='Footnote_0012'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0012'><span class='label'>[12]</span></a> +<p>Perhaps I had better mention the adjustments by which these +results have been reached. When a man has been in college during +only the closing years of the course, I assume that he would have +lived at the same rate had he been here throughout it. I have +added $150 for persons who board at home, and another hundred +for those who lodge there. Though I asked to have the expenses of +Class Day and the summer vacations omitted, in some instances +I have reason to suspect that they are included; but of course I +have been obliged to let the error remain, and I have never deducted +the money which students often say they expect to recover +at graduation by the sale of furniture and other goods. There +is a noticeable tendency to larger outlay as the years advance. +Some students attribute this to the greater cost of the studies of +the later years, to the more expensive books and the laboratory +charges; others, to societies and subscriptions; others, to enlarged +acquaintance with opportunities for spending.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0013' id='Footnote_0013'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0013'><span class='label'>[13]</span></a> +<p>For the sake of lucidity, I keep the expense account and the +income account distinct. For example, a man reports that he has +spent $700 a year, winning each year a scholarship of $200, and +earning by tutoring $100, and $50 by some other means. The +balance against him is only $350 a year; but I have included him +in the group of $700 spenders.</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +<a name='XII_A_TEACHER_OF_THE_OLDEN_TIME' id='XII_A_TEACHER_OF_THE_OLDEN_TIME'></a> +<h3>XII +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />A TEACHER OF THE OLDEN TIME</span></h3> +</div> +<p>On the 14th of February, 1883, Evangelinus Apostolides +Sophocles, Professor of Ancient, Byzantine, +and Modern Greek in Harvard University, died at +Cambridge, in the corner room of Holworthy Hall +which he had occupied for nearly forty years. A +past generation of American schoolboys knew him +gratefully as the author of a compact and lucid Greek +grammar. College students—probably as large a +number as ever sat under an American professor—were +introduced by him to the poets and historians +of Greece. Scholars of a riper growth, both in Europe +and America, have wondered at the precision +and loving diligence with which, in his dictionary +of the later and Bzyantine Greek, he assessed the +corrupt literary coinage of his native land. His brief +contributions to the Nation and other journals +were always noticeable for exact knowledge and +scrupulous literary honesty. As a great scholar, therefore, +and one who through a long life labored to +beget scholarship in others, Sophocles deserves well +of America. At a time when Greek was usually +studied as the schoolboy studies it, this strange Greek +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +came among us, connected himself with our oldest +university, and showed us an example of encyclopædic +learning, and such familiar and living acquaintance +with Homer and Æschylus—yes, even with +Polybius, Lucian, and Athenæus—as we have with +Tennyson and Shakespeare and Burke and Macaulay. +More than this, he showed us how such learning +is gathered. To a dozen generations of impressible +college students he presented a type of an +austere life directed to serene ends, a life sufficient +for itself and filled with a never-hastening diligence +which issued in vast mental stores.</p> +<p>It is not, however, the purpose of this paper to trace +the influence over American scholarship of this hardly +domesticated wise man of the East. Nor will there +be any attempt to narrate the outward events of +his life. These were never fully known; and could +they be discovered, there would be a kind of impiety +in reporting them. Few traits were so characteristic +of him as his wish to conceal his history. His +motto might have been that of Epicurus and Descartes: +“Well hid is well lived.” Yet in spite of his +concealments, perhaps in part because of them, few +persons connected with Harvard have ever left behind +them an impression of such massive individuality. +He was long a notable figure in university life, +one of those picturesque characters who by their +very being give impulse to aspiring mortals and check +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +the ever-encroaching commonplace. It would be ungrateful +to allow one formerly so stimulating and +talked about to fall into oblivion. Now that a decent +interval after death has passed, a memorial to this +unusual man may be reverently set up. His likeness +may be drawn by a fond though faithful hand. Or +at least such stories about him may be kindly put +into the record of print as will reflect some of those +rugged, paradoxical, witty, and benignant aspects +of his nature which marked him off from the humdrum +herd of men.</p> +<p>My own first approach to Sophocles was at the end +of my Junior year in college. It was necessary for +me to be absent from his afternoon recitation. In +those distant days absences were regarded by Harvard +law as luxuries, and a small fixed quantity of +them, a sort of sailor’s grog, was credited with little +charge each half-year to every student. I was already +nearing the limit of the unenlargeable eight, +and could not well venture to add another to my +score. It seemed safer to try to win indulgence from +my fierce-eyed instructor. Early one morning I went +to Sophocles’s room. “Professor Sophocles,” I said, +“I want to be excused from attending the Greek +recitation this afternoon.” “I have no power to +excuse,” uttered in the gruffest of tones, while he +looked the other way. “But I cannot be here. I +must be out of town at three o’clock.” “I have no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +power. You had better see the president.” Finding +the situation desperate, I took a desperate leap. +“But the president probably would not allow my +excuse. At the play of the Hasty Pudding Club to-night +I am to appear as leading lady. I must go to +Brookline this afternoon and have my sister dress +me.” No muscle of the stern face moved; but he rose, +walked to a table where his class lists lay, and, taking +up a pencil, calmly said: “You had better say nothing +to the president. You are here <i>now</i>. I will mark you +so.” He sniffed, he bowed, and, without smile or +word from either of us, I left the room. As I came +to know Sophocles afterwards, I found that in this +trivial early interview I had come upon some of the +most distinctive traits of his character; here was an +epitome of his <i>brusquerie</i>, his dignity, his whimsical +logic, and his kind heart.</p> +<p>Outwardly he was always brusque and repellent. +A certain savagery marked his very face. He once +observed that, in introducing a character, Homer is +apt to draw attention to the eye. Certainly in himself +this was the feature which first attracted notice; for +his eye had uncommon alertness and intelligence. +Those who knew him well detected in it a hidden +sweetness; but against the stranger it burned and +glared, and guarded all avenues of approach. Startled +it was, like the eye of a wild animal, and penetrating, +“peering through the portals of the brain like the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +brass cannon.” Over it crouched bushy brows, and +all around the great head bristled white hair, on +forehead, cheeks, and lips, so that little flesh remained +visible, and the life was settled in two fiery +spots. This concentration of expression in the few +elementary features of shape, hair, and eyes made +the head a magnificent subject for painting. Rembrandt +should have painted it. But he would never +allow a portrait of himself to be drawn. Into his personality +strangers must not intrude. Venturing once +to try for memoranda of his face, I took an artist to +his room. The courtesy of Sophocles was too stately +to allow him to turn my friend away, but he seated +himself in a shaded window, and kept his head in +constant motion. When my frustrated friend had +departed, Sophocles told me, though without direct +reproach, of two sketches which had before been +surreptitiously made,—one by the pencil of a student +in his class, another in oils by a lady who had +followed him on the street. Toward photography his +aversion was weaker; perhaps because in that art a +human being less openly meddled with him.</p> +<p>From this sense of personal dignity, which made +him at all times determined to keep out of the grasp +of others, much of his brusqueness sprang. On the +morning after he returned from his visit to Greece +a fellow professor saw him on the opposite side of the +street, and, hastening across, greeted him warmly: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +“So you have been home, Mr. Sophocles; and how +did you find your mother?” “She was up an apple-tree,” +said Sophocles, confining himself to the facts +of the case. A boy who snowballed him on the street +he prosecuted relentlessly, and he could not be appeased +until a considerable fine was imposed; but he +paid the fine himself. Many a bold push was made +to ascertain his age; yet, however suddenly the question +came, or however craftily one crept from date to +date, there was a uniform lack of success. “I see +Allibone’s Dictionary says you were born in 1805,” a +gentleman remarked. “Some statements have been +nearer, and some have been farther from the truth.” +One day, when a violent attack of illness fell on him, +a physician was called for diagnosis. He felt the pulse, +he examined the tongue, he heard the report of the +symptoms, then suddenly asked, “How old are you, +Mr. Sophocles?” With as ready presence of mind +and as pretty ingenuity as if he were not lying at the +point of death, Sophocles answered: “The Arabs, +Dr. W., estimate age by several standards. The age +of Hassan, the porter, is reckoned by his wrinkles; +that of Abdallah, the physician, by the lives he has +saved; that of Achmet, the sage, by his wisdom. +I, all my life a scholar, am nearing my hundredth +year.” To those who had once come close to +Sophocles these little reserves, never asserted with +impatience, were characteristic and endearing. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +happen to know his age; hot irons shall not draw +it from me.</p> +<p>Closely connected with his repellent reserve was +the stern independence of his modes of life. In his +scheme, little things were kept small and great things +large. What was the true reading in a passage of +Aristophanes, what the usage of a certain word in +Byzantine Greek,—these were matters on which a +man might well reflect and labor. But of what consequence +was it if the breakfast was slight or the coat +worn? Accordingly, a single room, in which a light +was seldom seen, sufficed him during his forty years +of life in the college yard. It was totally bare of comforts. +It contained no carpet, no stuffed furniture, +no bookcase. The college library furnished the volumes +he was at any time using, and these lay along +the floor, beside his dictionary, his shoes, and the +box that contained the sick chicken. A single bare +table held the book he had just laid down, together +with a Greek newspaper, a silver watch, a cravat, +a paper package or two, and some scraps of bread. +His simple meals were prepared by himself over a +small open stove, which served at once for heat and +cookery. Eating, however, was always treated as a +subordinate and incidental business, deserving no +fixed time, no dishes, nor the setting of a table. The +peasants of the East, the monks of southern monasteries, +live chiefly on bread and fruit, relished with a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +little wine; and Sophocles, in spite of Cambridge and +America, was to the last a peasant and a monk. Such +simple nutriments best fitted his constitution, for +“they found their acquaintance there.” The western +world had come to him by accident, and was ignored; +the East was in his blood, and ordered all his goings. +Yet, as a grave man of the East might, he had his +festivities, and could on occasion be gay. Among a +few friends he could tell a capital story and enjoy +a well-cooked dish. But his ordinary fare was meagre +in the extreme. For one of his heartier meals he +would cut a piece of meat into bits and roast it on +a spit, as Homer’s people roasted theirs. “Why not +use a gridiron?” I once asked. “It is not the same,” +he said. “The juice then runs into the fire. But when +I turn my spit it bastes itself.” His taste was more +than usually sensitive, kept fine and discriminating +by the restraint in which he held it. Indeed, all his +senses, except sight, were acute.</p> +<p>The wine he drank was the delicate unresinated +Greek wine,—Corinthian, or Chian, or Cyprian; +the amount of water to be mixed with each being +carefully debated and employed. Each winter a cask +was sent him from a special vineyard on the heights +of Corinth, and occasioned something like a general +rejoicing in Cambridge, so widely were its flavorous +contents distributed. Whenever this cask arrived, +or when there came a box from Mt. Sinai filled with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +potato-like sweetmeats,—a paste of figs, dates, and +nuts, stuffed into sewed goatskins,—or when his +hens had been laying a goodly number of eggs, then +under the blue cloak a selection of bottles, or of +sweetmeats, or of eggs would be borne to a friend’s +house, where for an hour the old man sat in dignity +and calm, opening and closing his eyes and his jack-knife; +uttering meanwhile detached remarks, wise, +gruff, biting, yet seldom lacking a kernel of kindness, +till bedtime came, nine o’clock, and he was gone, the +gifts—if thanks were feared—left in a chair by the +door. There were half a dozen houses and dinner +tables in Cambridge to which he went with pleasure, +houses where he seemed to find a solace in the neighborhood +of his kind. But human beings were an exceptional +luxury. He had never learned to expect +them. They never became necessities of his daily +life, and I doubt if he missed them when they were +absent. As he slowly recovered strength, after one +of his later illnesses, I urged him to spend a month +with me. Refusing in a brief sentence, he added +with unusual gentleness: “To be alone is not the +same for me and for you. I have never known anything +else.”</p> +<p>Unquestionably much of his disposition to remain +aloof and to resist the on-coming intruder was bred +by the experiences of his early youth. His native +place, Tsangarada, is a village of eastern Thessaly, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +far up among the slopes of the Pindus. Thither, +several centuries ago, an ancestor led a migration +from the west coast of Greece, and sought a refuge +from Turkish oppression. From generation to generation +his fathers continued to be shepherds of their +people, the office of Proëstos, or governor, being +hereditary in the house. Sturdy men those ancestors +must have been, and picturesque their times. In late +winter afternoons, at 3 Holworthy, when the dusk began +to settle among the elms about the yard, legends +of these heroes and their far-off days would loiter +through the exile’s mind. At such times bloody doings +would be narrated with all the coolness that +appears in Cæsar’s Commentaries, and over the listener +would come a sense of a fantastic world as +different from our own as that of Bret Harte’s Argonauts. +“My great-grandfather was not easily disturbed. +He was a young man and Proëstos. His +stone house stood apart from the others. He was +sitting in its great room one evening, and heard a +noise. He looked around, and saw three men by the +farther door. ‘What are you here for?’ ‘We have +come to assassinate you.’ ‘Who sent you?’ ‘Andreas.’ +It was a political enemy. ‘How much did +Andreas promise you?’ ‘A dollar.’ ‘I will promise +you two dollars if you will go and assassinate Andreas.’ +So they turned, went, and assassinated Andreas. +My great-grandfather went to Scyros the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +next day, and remained there five years. In five years +these things are forgotten in Greece. Then he came +back, and brought a wife from Scyros, and was Proëstos +once more.”</p> +<p>Another evening: “People said my grandfather +died of leprosy. Perhaps he did. As Proëstos he gave +a decision against a woman, and she hated him. One +night she crept up behind the house, where his clothes +lay on the ground, and spread over his clothes the +clothes of a leper. After that he was not well. His +hair fell off and he died. But perhaps it was not +leprosy; perhaps he died of fear. The Knights of +Malta were worrying the Turks. They sailed into +the harbor of Volo, and threatened to bombard the +town. The Turks seized the leading Greeks and shut +them up in the mosque. When the first gun was +fired by the frigate, the heads of the Greeks were to +come off. My grandfather went into the mosque a +young man. A quarter of an hour afterwards, the +gun was heard, and my grandfather waited for the +headsman. But the shot toppled down the minaret, +and the Knights of Malta were so pleased that they +sailed away, satisfied. The Turks, watching them, +forgot about the prisoners. But two hours later, +when my grandfather came out of the mosque, he +was an old man. He could not walk well. His hair +fell off, and he died.”</p> +<p>Sometimes I caught glimpses of Turkish oppression +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +in times of peace. “I remember the first time +I saw the wedding gift given. No new-made bride +must leave the house she visits without a gift. My +mother’s sister married, and came to see us. I was a +boy. She stood at the door to go, and my mother remembered +she had not had the gift. There was not +much to give. The Turks had been worse than usual, +and everything was buried. But my mother could +not let her go without the gift. She searched the +house, and found a saucer,—it was a beautiful +saucer; and this she gave her sister, who took it and +went away.”</p> +<p>“How did you get the name of Sophocles?” I +asked, one evening. “Is your family supposed to be +connected with that of the poet?” “My name is not +Sophocles. I have no family name. In Greece, when +a child is born, it is carried to the grandfather to +receive a name.” (I thought how, in the Odyssey, +the nurse puts the infant Odysseus in the arms of +his mother’s father, Autolycus, for naming.) “The +grandfather gives him his own name. The father’s +name, of course, is different; and this he too gives +when he becomes a grandfather. So in old Greek +families two names alternate through generations. +My grandfather’s name was Evangelinos. This he +gave to me; and I was distinguished from others +of that name because I was the son of Apostolos, +Apostolides. But my best schoolmaster was fond of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +the poet Sophocles, and he was fond of me. He used +to call me his little Sophocles. The other boys heard +it, and they began to call me so. It was a nickname. +But when I left home people took it for my family +name. They thought I must have a family name. +I did not contradict them. It makes no difference. +This is as good as any.” One morning he received a +telegram of congratulation from the monks in Cairo. +“It is my day,” he said. “How did the monks know +it was your birthday?” I asked. “It is not my birthday. +Nobody thinks about that. It is forgotten. This +is my saint’s day. Coming into the world is of no +consequence; coming under the charge of the saints +is what we care for. My name puts me in the Virgin’s +charge, and the feast of the Annunciation is my day. +The monks know my name.”</p> +<p>To the Greek Church he was always loyal. Its +faith had glorified his youth, and to it he turned for +strength throughout his solitary years. Its conventual +discipline was dear to him, and oftener than of +his birthplace at the foot of Mt. Olympus he dreamed +of Mt. Sinai. On Mt. Sinai the Emperor Justinian +founded the most revered of all Greek monasteries. +Standing remote on its sacred mountain, the monastery +depends on Cairo for its supplies. In Cairo, accordingly, +there is a branch or agency which during +the boyhood of Sophocles was presided over by his +Uncle Constantius. At twelve he joined this uncle in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +Cairo. In the agency there, in the parent monastery +on Sinai itself, and in journeyings between the two, +the happy years were spent which shaped his intellectual +and religious constitution. Though he never +outwardly became a monk, he largely became one +within. His adored uncle Constantius was his spiritual +father. Through him his ideals had been acquired,—his +passion for learning, his hardihood in +duty, his imperturbable patience, his brief speech +which allowed only so many words as might scantily +clothe his thought, his indifference to personal comfort. +He never spoke the name of Constantius without +some sign of reverence; and in his will, after +making certain private bequests, and leaving to Harvard +College all his printed books and stereotype +plates, he adds this clause: “All the residue and remainder +of my property and estate I devise and bequeath +to the said President and Fellows of Harvard +College in trust, to keep the same as a permanent +fund, and to apply the income thereof in two equal +parts: one part to the purchase of Greek and Latin +books (meaning hereby the ancient classics) or of +Arabic books, or of books illustrating or explaining +such Greek, Latin, or Arabic books; and the other +part to the Catalogue Department of the General +Library.... My will is that the entire income of +the said fund be expended in every year, and that +the fund be kept forever unimpaired, and be called +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +and known as the Constantius Fund, in memory of +my paternal uncle, Constantius the Sinaite, +<span lang="el" title="Kônstantios Sinaitnês">Κωνσταντιος Σιναιτνης</span>.”</p> +<p>This man, then, by birth, training, and temper a +solitary; whose heritage was Mt. Olympus, and the +monastery of Justinian, and the Greek quarter of +Cairo, and the isles of Greece; whose intimates were +Hesiod and Pindar and Arrian and Basilides,—this +man it was who, from 1842 onward, was deputed +to interpret to American college boys the hallowed +writings of his race. Thirty years ago too, at the +period when I sat on the green bench in front of the +long-legged desk, college boys were boys indeed. They +had no more knowledge than the high-school boy +of to-day, and they were kept in order by much the +same methods. Thus it happened, by some jocose +perversity in the arrangement of human affairs, that +throughout our Sophomore and Junior years we +sportive youngsters were obliged to endure Sophocles, +and Sophocles was obliged to endure us. No wonder +if he treated us with a good deal of contempt. No +wonder that his power of scorn, originally splendid, +enriched itself from year to year. We learned, it is +true, something about everything except Greek; and +the best thing we learned was a new type of human +nature. Who that was ever his pupil will forget +the calm bearing, the occasional pinch of snuff, the +averted eye, the murmur of the interior voice, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +the stocky little figure with the lion’s head? There in +the corner he stood, as stranded and solitary as the +Egyptian obelisk in the hurrying Place de la Concorde. +In a curious sort of fashion he was faithful +to what he must have felt an obnoxious duty. He +was never absent from his post, nor did he cut short +the hours, but he gave us only such attention as was +nominated in the bond; he appeared to hurry past, +as by set purpose, the beauties of what we read, and +he took pleasure in snubbing expectancy and aspiration.</p> +<p>“When I entered college,” says an eminent Greek +scholar, “I was full of the notion, which I probably +could not have justified, that the Greeks were the +greatest people that had ever lived. My enthusiasm +was fanned into a warmer glow when I learned that +my teacher was himself a Greek, and that our first +lesson was to be the story of Thermopylæ. After +the passage of Herodotus had been duly read, +Sophocles began: ‘You must not suppose these men +stayed in the Pass because they were brave; they +were afraid to run away.’ A shiver went down my +back. Even if what he said had been true, it ought +never to have been told to a Freshman.”</p> +<p>The universal custom of those days was the hearing +of recitations, and to this Sophocles conformed so +far as to set a lesson and to call for its translation +bit by bit. But when a student had read his suitable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +ten lines, he was stopped by the raised finger; and +Sophocles, fixing his eyes on vacancy and taking his +start from some casual suggestion of the passage, +began a monologue,—a monologue not unlike one +of Browning’s in its caprices, its involvement, its +adaptation to the speaker’s mind rather than to the +hearer’s, and its ease in glancing from heaven to +earth, from earth to heaven. During these intervals +the sluggish slumbered, the industrious devoted +themselves to books and papers brought in the pocket +for the purpose, the dreamy enjoyed the opportunity +of wondering what the strange words and their still +stranger utterer might mean. The monologue was +sometimes long and sometimes short, according as +the theme which had been struck kindled the rhapsodist +and enabled him, with greater or less completeness, +to forget his class. When some subtlety was +approached, a smile—the only smile ever seen on +his face by strangers—lifted for a moment the corner +of the mouth. The student who had been reciting +stood meanwhile, but sat when the voice stopped, the +white head nodded, the pencil made a record, and a +new name was called.</p> +<p>There were perils, of course, in records of this sort. +Reasons for the figures which subsequently appeared +on the college books were not easy to find. Some of +us accounted for our marks by the fact that we had +red hair or long noses; others preferred the explanation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +that our professor’s pencil happened to move +more readily to the right hand or to the left. For +the most part we took good-naturedly whatever was +given us, though questionings would sometimes arise. +A little before my time there entered an ambitious +young fellow, who cherished large purposes in Greek. +At the end of the first month under his queer instructor +he went to the regent and inquired for his mark +in Plato. It was three, the maximum being eight. +Horror-stricken, he penetrated Sophocles’s room. +“Professor Sophocles,” he said. “I find my mark is +only three. There must be some mistake. There is +another Jones in the class, you know, J. S. Jones” +(a lump of flesh), “and may it not be that our marks +have been confused?” An unmoved countenance, +a little wave of the hand, accompanied the answer: +“You must take your chance,—you must take your +chance.” In my own section, when anybody was +absent from a certain bench, poor Prindle was always +obliged to go forward and say, “I was here +to-day, Professor Sophocles,” or else the gap on +the bench where six men should sit was charged to +Prindle’s account. In those easy-going days, when +men were examined for entrance to college orally and +in squads, there was a good deal of eagerness among +the knowing ones to get into the squad of Sophocles; +for it was believed that he admitted everybody, on +the ground that none of us knew any Greek, and it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +was consequently unfair to discriminate. Fantastic +stories were attributed to him, for whose truth or error +none could vouch, and were handed on from class to +class. “What does Philadelphia mean?” “Brotherly +love,” the student answers. “Yes! It is to remind +us of Ptolemy Philadelphus, who killed his brother.” +A German commentator had somewhere mentioned +lions in connection with the Peloponnesus, and +Sophocles inquires of Brown if he knows the date +when lions first appeared in the Peloponnesus. He +does not, nor does Smith nor Robinson. At length +Green, driven to bay, declares in desperation that he +doesn’t believe there ever were lions in the Peloponnesus. +To whom Sophocles: “You are right. There +were none.” “Do you read your examination books?” +he once asked a fellow instructor. “If they are better +than you expect, the writers cheat; if they are +no better, time is wasted.” “Is to-day story day or +contradiction day?” he is reported to have said to +one who, in the war time, eagerly handed him a newspaper, +and asked if he had seen the morning’s news.</p> +<p>How much of this cynicism of conduct and of +speech was genuine perhaps he knew as little as +the rest of us; but certainly it imparted a pessimistic +tinge to all he did and said. To hear him talk, one +would suppose the world was ruled by accident or +by an utterly irrational fate; for in his mind the two +conceptions seemed closely to coincide. His words +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +were never abusive; they were deliberate, peaceful +even; but they made it very plain that so long as one +lived there was no use in expecting anything. Paradoxes +were a little more probable than ordered calculations; +but even paradoxes would fail. Human +beings were altogether impotent, though they fussed +and strutted as if they could accomplish great things. +How silly was trust in men’s goodness and power, +even in one’s own! Most men were bad and stupid,—Germans +especially so. The Americans knew +nothing, and never could know. A wise man would +not try to teach them. Yet some persons dreamed +of establishing a university in America! Did they +expect scholarship where there were politicians and +business men? Evil influences were far too strong. +They always were. The good were made expressly +to suffer, the evil to succeed. Better leave the world +alone, and keep one’s self true. “Put a drop of milk +into a gallon of ink; it will make no difference. Put +a drop of ink into a gallon of milk; the whole is +spoiled.”</p> +<p>I have felt compelled to dwell at some length on +these cynical, illogical, and austere aspects of Sophocles’s +character, and even to point out the circumstances +of his life which may have shaped them, +because these were the features by which the world +commonly judged him, and was misled. One meeting +him casually had little more to judge by. So entire +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +was his reserve, so little did he permit close conversation, +so seldom did he raise his eye in his slow +walks on the street, so rarely might a stranger pass +within the bolted door of his chamber, that to the +last he bore to the average college student the character +of a sphinx, marvellous in self-sufficiency, +amazing in erudition, romantic in his suggestion +of distant lands and customs, and forever piquing +curiosity by his eccentric and sarcastic sayings. All +this whimsicality and pessimism would have been +cheap enough, and little worth recording, had it stood +alone. What lent it price and beauty was that it was +the utterance of a singularly self-denying and tender +soul. The incongruity between his bitter speech and +his kind heart endeared both to those who knew him. +Like his venerable cloak, his grotesque language +often hid a bounty underneath. How many students +have received his surly benefactions! In how many +small tradesmen’s shops did he have his appointed +chair! His room was bare: but in his native town an +aqueduct was built; his importunate and ungrateful +relatives were pensioned; the monks of Mt. Sinai +were protected against want; the children and grand-children +of those who had befriended his early years +in America were watched over with a father’s love; +and by care for helpless creatures wherever they +crossed his path he kept himself clean of selfishness.</p> +<p>One winter night, at nearly ten o’clock, I was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +called to my door. There stood Sophocles. When I +asked him why he was not in bed an hour ago, “A. +has gone home,” he said. “I know it,” I answered; +for A. was a young instructor dear to me. “He is +sick,” he went on. “Yes.” “He has no money.” +“Well, we will see how he will get along.” “But you +must get him some money, and I must know about +it.” And he would not go back into the storm—this +graybeard professor, solicitous for an overworked +tutor—till I assured him that arrangements had +been made for continuing A.’s salary during his absence. +I declare, in telling the tale I am ashamed. +Am I wronging the good man by disclosing his secret, +and saying that he was not the cynical curmudgeon +for which he tried to pass? But already before he +was in his grave the secret had been discovered, and +many gave him persistently the love which he still +tried to wave away.</p> +<p>Toward dumb and immature creatures his tenderness +was more frank, for these could not thank him. +Children always recognized in him their friend. A +group of curly-heads usually appeared in his window +on Class Day. A stray cat knew him at once, and, +though he seldom stroked her, would quickly accommodate +herself near his legs. By him spiders +were watched, and their thin wants supplied. But +his solitary heart went out most unreservedly and +with the most pathetic devotion toward fragile +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +chickens; and out of these uninteresting little birds +he elicited a degree of responsive intelligence which +was startling to see. One of his dearest friends, +coming home from a journey, brought him a couple +of bantam eggs. When hatched and grown, they +developed into a little five-inch burnished cock, +which shone like a jewel or a bird of paradise, and a +more sober but exquisite hen. These two, Frank and +Nina, and all their numerous progeny for many years, +Sophocles trained to the hand. Each knew its name, +and would run from the flock when its white-haired +keeper called, and, sitting upon his hand or shoulder, +would show queer signs of affection, not hesitating +even to crow. The same generous friend who gave +the eggs gave shelter also to the winged consequences. +And thus it happened that three times a day, so long +as he was able to leave his room, Sophocles went to +that house where Radcliffe College is now sheltered +to attend his pets. White grapes were carried there, +and the choicest of corn and clamshell; and endless +study was given to devising conveniences for housing, +nesting, and the promenade. But he did not demand +too much from his chickens. In their case, as in dealing +with human beings, he felt it wise to bear in mind +the limit and to respect the foreordained. When Nina +was laying badly, one springtime, I suggested a +special food as a good egg-producer. But Sophocles +declined to use it. “You may hasten matters,” he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +said, “but you cannot change them. A hen is born +with just so many eggs to lay. You cannot increase +the number.” The eggs, as soon as laid, were pencilled +with the date and the name of the mother, and +were then distributed among his friends, or sparingly +eaten at his own meals. To eat a chicken itself was +a kind of cannibalism from which his whole nature +shrank. “I do not eat what I love,” he said, rejecting +the bowl of chicken broth I pressed upon him in +his last sickness.</p> +<p>For protecting creatures naturally so helpless, +sternness—or at least its outward seeming—became +occasionally necessary. One day young +Thornton’s dog leaped into the hen-yard and caused +a commotion there. Sophocles was prompt in defence. +He drew a pistol and fired, while the dog, +perceiving his mistake, retreated as he had come. +The following day Thornton Senior, walking down +the street, was suddenly embarrassed by seeing +Sophocles on the same sidewalk. Remembering, +however, the old man’s usually averted gaze, he +hoped to pass unnoticed. But as the two came +abreast, gruff words and a piercing eye signalled +stoppage. “Mr. Thornton, you have a son.” “Yes, +Mr. Sophocles, a boy generally well-meaning but +sometimes thoughtless.” “Your son has a dog.” “A +nervous dog, rather difficult to regulate.” “The dog +worried my chickens.” “So I heard, and was sorry +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span> +enough to hear it.” “I fired a pistol at him.” “Very +properly. A pity you didn’t hit him.” “The pistol +was not loaded.” And before Mr. Thornton could +recover his wits for a suitable reply Sophocles had +drawn from his pocket one of his long Sinaitic sweetmeats, +had cut off a lump with his jack-knife, handed +it to Mr. Thornton, and with the words, “This is for +the boy who owns the dog,” was gone. The incident +well illustrates the sweetness and savagery of the +man, his plainness, his readiness to right a wrong +and protect the weak, his rejection of smooth and +unnecessary words, his rugged exterior, and the +underlying kindness which ever attended it.</p> +<p>If in ways so uncommon his clinging nature, cut +off from domestic opportunity, went out to children +and unresponsive creatures, it may be imagined how +good cause of love he furnished to his few intimates +among mankind. They found in him sweet courtesy, +undemanding gentleness, an almost feminine +tact in adapting what he could give to what they +might receive. To their eyes the great scholar, the +austere monk, the bizarre professor, the pessimist, +were hidden by the large and lovable man. Even +strangers recognized him as no common person, so +thoroughly was all he did and said purged of superfluity, +so veracious was he, so free from apology. +His everyday thoughts were worthy thoughts. He +knew no shame or fear, and had small wish, I think, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +for any change. Always a devout Christian, he seldom +used expressions of regret or hope. Probably he +concerned himself little with these or other feelings. +In the last days of his life, it is true, when his thoughts +were oftener in Arabia than in Cambridge, he once +or twice referred to “the ambition of learning” as +the temptation which had drawn him out from the +monastery, and had given him a life less holy than +he might have led among the monks. But these were +moods of humility rather than of regret. Habitually +he maintained an elevation above circumstances,—was +it Stoicism or Christianity?—which imparted +to his behavior, even when most eccentric, an unshakable +dignity. When I have found him in his +room, curled up in shirt and drawers, reading the +“Arabian Nights,” the Greek service book, or the +“Ladder of the Virtues” by John Klimakos, he has +risen to receive me with the bearing of an Arab +sheikh, and has laid by the Greek folio and motioned +me to a chair with a stateliness not natural to our +land or century. It would be clumsy to liken him to +one of Plutarch’s men; for though there was much +of the heroic and extraordinary in his character and +manners, nothing about him suggested a suspicion +of being on show. The mould in which he was cast +was formed earlier. In his bearing and speech, and +in a certain large simplicity of mental structure, he +was the most Homeric man I ever knew.</p> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> +<a name='III_PAPERS_BY_ALICE_FREEMAN_PALMER' id='III_PAPERS_BY_ALICE_FREEMAN_PALMER'></a> +<h2>III +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />PAPERS BY ALICE FREEMAN PALMER</span></h2> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></div> +<p>While Mrs. Palmer always avoided writing, and thought—generous +prodigal!—that her work was best accomplished +by spoken words, her complying spirit could not +always resist the appeals of magazine editors. I could wish +now that their requests had been even more urgent. And +I believe that those who read these pages will regret that +one possessed of such breadth of view, clearness, charm +and cogency of style should have left a literary record so +meagre. All these papers are printed precisely as she +left them, without the change of a word. I have not even +ventured on correction in the printed report of one of her +addresses, that on going to college. Its looser structure well +illustrates her mode of moving an audience and bringing +its mothers to the course of conduct she approved.</p> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span> +<a name='XIII_THREE_TYPES_OF_WOMENS_COLLEGES' id='XIII_THREE_TYPES_OF_WOMENS_COLLEGES'></a> +<h3>XIII +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />THREE TYPES OF WOMEN’S COLLEGES<a name='FNanchor_0014' id='FNanchor_0014'></a><a href='#Footnote_0014' class='fnanchor'>[14]</a></span></h3> +</div> +<p>American college education in the quarter-century +since the Civil War has undergone more numerous +and more fundamental changes than befell +it in a hundred years before. These changes have +not occurred unnoticed. A multitude of journals and +associations are busy every year discussing the results +of the experiments in teaching which go on with +increasing daring and fruitfulness in nearly all our +colleges and schools. There still exists a wide divergence +of opinion among the directors of men’s colleges +in regard to a variety of important questions: the +conditions and proper age for entrance; the length +of the course of study; the elective system, both of +government and instruction; the requirements for +the bachelor’s and master’s degrees; the stress to be +laid on graduate work—these, and many sequents +of these, touching the physical, social, and religious +life of the young men of the land, are undergoing +sharp discussion.</p> +<p>The advanced education of young women is exposed +to all the uncertainties which beset the education +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +of men, but it has perplexities of its own in +addition. After fifty years of argument and twenty-five +of varied and costly experiment, it might be easy +to suppose that we are still in chaos, almost as far +from knowing the best way to train a woman as we +were at the beginning. No educational convention +meets without a session devoted to the difficulties +in “the higher education of women,” so important +has the subject become, and so hard is it to satisfy +in any one system the variety of its needs. Yet chaos +may be thought more chaotic than it really is. In +the din of discussion it would not be strange if the +fair degree of concord already reached should sometimes +be missed. We are certainly still far from +having found the one best method of college training +for girls. Some of us hope we may never find it, +believing that in diversity, no less than in unity, there +is strength. But already three tolerably clear, consistent, +and accredited types of education appear, +which it will be the purpose of this paper to explain. +The nature of each, with its special strengths and +weaknesses, will be set forth in no spirit of partisanship, +but in the belief that a cool understanding of +what is doing at present among fifty thousand college +girls may make us wiser and more patient in our +future growth. What, then, are the three types, and +how have they arisen?</p> +<p>When to a few daring minds the conviction came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +that education was a right of personality rather than +of sex, and when there was added to this growing +sentiment the pressing demand for educated women +as teachers and as leaders in philanthropy, the simplest +means of equipping women with the needful +preparation was found in the existing schools and +colleges. Scattered all over the country were colleges +for men, young for the most part and small, and +greatly lacking anything like a proper endowment. +In nearly every state west of the Alleghanies, “universities” +had been founded by the voluntary tax of +the whole population. Connected with all the more +powerful religious denominations were schools and +colleges which called upon their adherents for gifts +and students. These democratic institutions had +the vigor of youth, and were ambitious and struggling. +“Why,” asked the practical men of affairs who controlled +them, “should not our daughters go on with +our sons from the public schools to the university +which we are sacrificing to equip and maintain? +Why should we duplicate the enormously expensive +appliances of education, when our existing colleges +would be bettered by more students? By far the large +majority of our boys and girls study together as children; +they work together as men and women in all +the important concerns of life; why should they be +separated in the lecture room for only the four years +between eighteen and twenty-two, when that separation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +means the doubling of an equipment already +too poor by half?”</p> +<p>It is not strange that with this and much more +practical reasoning of a similar kind, coeducation +was established in some colleges at their beginning, +in others after debate and by a radical change in +policy. When once the chivalrous desire was aroused +to give girls as good an education as their brothers, +western men carried out the principle unflinchingly. +From the kindergarten to the preparation for the +doctorate of philosophy, educational opportunities +are now practically alike for men and women. The +total number of colleges of arts and sciences empowered +by law to give degrees, reporting to Washington +in 1888, was three hundred and eighty-nine. Of +these two hundred and thirty-seven, or nearly two +thirds, were coeducational. Among them are all the +state universities, and nearly all the colleges under +the patronage of the Protestant sects.</p> +<p>Hitherto I have spoken as if coeducation were a +western movement; and in the West it certainly has +had greater currency than elsewhere. But it originated, +at least so far as concerns superior secondary +training, in Massachusetts. Bradford Academy, +chartered in 1804, is the oldest incorporated institution +in the country to which boys and girls were +from the first admitted; but it closed its department +for boys in 1836, three years after the foundation of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span> +coeducational Oberlin, and in the very year when +Mount Holyoke was opened by Mary Lyon, in the +large hope of doing for young women what Harvard +had been founded to do for young men just two hundred +years before. Ipswich and Abbot Academies +in Massachusetts had already been chartered to educate +girls alone. It has been the dominant sentiment +in the East that boys and girls should be educated +separately. The older, more generously endowed, +more conservative seats of learning, inheriting the +complications of the dormitory system, have remained +closed to women. The requirements for the two sexes +are thought to be different. Girls are to be trained +for private, boys for public life. Let every opportunity +be given, it is said, for developing accomplished, +yes, even learned women; but let the process +of acquiring knowledge take place under careful +guardianship, among the refinements of home life, +with graceful women, their instructors, as companions, +and with suitable opportunities for social life. +Much stress is laid upon assisting girl students to +attain balanced characters, charming manners, and +ambitions that are not unwomanly. A powerful +moral, often a deeply religious earnestness, shaped +the discussion, and finally laid the foundations of +woman’s education in the East.</p> +<p>In the short period of the twenty years after the +war the four women’s colleges which are the richest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span> +in endowments and students of any in the world +were founded and set in motion. These colleges—Vassar, +opened in 1865, Wellesley and Smith in 1875, +and Bryn Mawr in 1885—have received in gifts +of every kind about $6,000,000, and are educating +nearly two thousand students. For the whole country +the Commissioner of Education reports two hundred +and seven institutions for the superior instruction of +women, with more than twenty-five thousand students. +But these resources proved inadequate. There +came an increasing demand, especially from teachers, +for education of all sorts; more and more, too, +for training in subjects of advanced research. For +this, only the best equipped men’s universities were +thought sufficient, and women began to resort to the +great universities of England and Germany. In an +attempt to meet a demand of this sort the Harvard +Annex began, twelve years ago, to provide women +with instruction by members of the Harvard Faculty.</p> +<p>Where, in a great centre of education, for many +years books have accumulated, and museums and +laboratories have multiplied, where the prestige +and associations of a venerable past have grown up, +and cultivated surroundings assure a scholarly atmosphere; +in short, in the shadow of all that goes +to make up the gracious influences of an old and +honorable university, it was to be expected that earnest +women would gather to seek a share in the enthusiasm +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span> +for scholarship, and the opportunities for acquiring +it, which their brothers had enjoyed for two +hundred and fifty years.</p> +<p>These, then—coeducation, the woman’s college, +and the annex—are the three great types of college +in which the long agitation in behalf of women’s +education has thus far issued. Of course they are but +types—that is, they do not always exist distinct and +entire; they are rather the central forms to which +many varieties approximate. The characteristic features +of each I must now describe, and, as I promised +at the beginning, point out their inherent strengths +and weaknesses; for each, while having much to +recommend it, still bears in itself the defects of its +qualities. To explain dangers as well as promises +is the business of the critic, as contrasted with that +of the advocate. To this business I now turn, and +I may naturally have most in mind the University +of Michigan, my own Alma Mater, Wellesley College, +with whose government I have been connected +for a dozen years, and the Harvard Annex, whose +neighbor I now am.</p> +<p>Coeducation involves, as its name implies, the +education of a company of young men and women as +a single body. To the two sexes alike are presented +the same conditions of admission, of opportunities +during the course, of requirements for the degrees, +of guardianship, of discipline, of organization. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span> +typical features are identical classrooms, libraries, +and laboratories, occupied at the same time, under +the same instructors; and the same honors for like +work. Ordinarily all the instructors are men, although +in a few universities professorships are held +by women. Usually no dormitories or boarding-houses +are provided for either the young men or women, +and no more surveillance is kept over the one +than over the other. This feature, however, is not +essential. At Cornell, Oberlin, and elsewhere, often +out of local necessity, buildings have been provided +where the young women may—in some instances, +must—live together under the ordinary regulations +of home life, with a lady in charge. But in most of +the higher coeducational institutions the principle +has from the first been assumed that students of both +sexes become sufficiently matured by eighteen years +of home, school, and social life—especially under +the ample opportunities for learning the uses of +freedom which our social habits afford—safely to +undertake a college course, and advantageously to +order their daily lives. Of course all have a moral +support in the advice and example of their teachers, +and they are held to good intellectual work by the +perpetual demand of the classroom, the laboratory, +and the thesis.</p> +<p>The girl who goes to the University of Michigan +to-day, just as when I entered there in 1872, finds +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span> +her own boarding-place in one of the quiet homes of +the pleasant little city whose interest centres in the +two thousand five hundred students scattered within +its borders. She makes the business arrangements +for her winter’s fuel and its storage; she finds her +washerwoman or her laundry; she arranges her own +hours of exercise, of study, and of sleep; she chooses +her own society, clubs, and church. The advice she +gets comes from another girl student of sophomoric +dignity who chances to be in the same house, or possibly +from a still more advanced young woman whom +she met on the journey, or sat near in church on her +first Sunday. Strong is the comradeship among these +ambitious girls, who nurse one another in illness, +admonish one another in health, and rival one another +in study only less eagerly than they all rival the +boys. In my time in college the little group of girls, +suddenly introduced into the army of young men, +felt that the fate of our sex hung upon proving +that “lady Greek” involved the accents, and that +women’s minds were particularly absorptive of the +calculus and metaphysics. And still in those sections +where, with growing experience, the anxieties about +coeducation have been allayed, a healthy and hearty +relationship and honest rivalry between young men +and women exists. It is a stimulating atmosphere, and +develops in good stock a strength and independent +balance which tell in after-life.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span></div> +<p>In estimating the worth of such a system as this, +we may say at once that it does not meet every need +of a woman’s nature. No system can—no system +that has yet been devised. A woman is an object of +attraction to men, and also in herself so delicately +organized as to be fitted peculiarly for the graces and +domesticities of life. The exercise of her special function +of motherhood demands sheltered circumstances +and refined moral perceptions. But then, over and +above all this, she is a human being—a person, +that is, who has her own way in the world to make, +and who will come to success or failure, in her home +or outside it, according as her judgment is fortified, +her observations and experiences are enlarged, her +courage is rendered strong and calm, her moral estimates +are trained to be accurate, broad, and swift. +In a large tract of her character—is it the largest +tract?—her own needs and those of the young man +are identical. Both are rational persons, and the +greater part of the young man’s education is addressed +to his rational personality rather than to the peculiarities +of his sex. Why, the defenders of coeducation +ask, may not the same principles apply to women? +Why train a girl specifically to be a wife and +mother, when no great need is felt for training a boy +to be a husband and father? In education, as a public +matter, the two sexes meet on common ground. +The differences must be attended to privately.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span></div> +<p>At any rate, whatever may be thought of the relative +importance of the two sides—the woman side +and the human side—it will be generally agreed +that the training of a young woman is apt to be peculiarly +weak in agencies for bringing home to her +the importance of direct and rational action. The +artificialities of society, the enfeebling indulgence extended +to pretty silliness, the gallantry of men glad +ever to accept the hard things and leave to her the +easy—by these influences any comfortably placed +and pleasing girl is pretty sure to be surrounded in +her early teens. The coeducationists think it wholesome +that in her later teens and early twenties she +should be subjected to an impartial judgment, ready +to estimate her without swerving, and to tell her as +freely when she is silly, ignorant, fussy, or indolent +as her brother himself is told. Coeducation, as a +system, must minimize the different needs of men +and women; it appeals to them and provides for them +alike, and then allows the natural tastes and instincts +of each scope for individuality. The strengths of this +system, accordingly, are to be found in its tendency +to promote independence of judgment, individuality +of tastes, common-sense and foresight in self-guidance, +disinclination to claim favor, interest in learning +for its own sake; friendly, natural, unromantic, non-sentimental +relations with men. The early fear that +coeducation would result in classroom romances +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span> +has proved exaggerated. These young women do +marry; so do others; so do young men. Marriage is +not in itself an evil, and many happy homes have +been founded in the belief that long and quiet acquaintance +in intellectual work, and intimate interests +of the same deeper sort, form as solid a basis for +a successful marriage as ballroom intercourse or a +summer at Bar Harbor.</p> +<p>The weaknesses of this system are merely the converse +of its strengths. It does not usually provide for +what is distinctively feminine. Refining home influences +and social oversight are largely lacking; and +if they are wanting in the home from which the +student comes, it must not be expected that she +will show, on graduation, the graces of manner, the +niceties of speech and dress, and the shy delicacy +which have been encouraged in her more tenderly +nurtured sister.</p> +<p>The woman’s college is organized under a different +and far more complex conception. The chief business +of the man’s college, whether girls are admitted +to it or not, is to give instruction of the best available +quality in as many subjects as possible; to furnish +every needed appliance for the acquirement of knowledge +and the encouragement of special investigation. +The woman’s college aims to do all this, but it aims +also to make for its students a home within its own +walls and to develop other powers in them than the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span> +merely intellectual. At the outset this may seem a +simple matter, but it quickly proves as complicated +as life itself. When girls are gathered together by +hundreds, isolated from the ordinary conditions of +established communities, the college stands to them +preëminently <i>in loco parentis</i>. It must provide resident +physicians and trained nurses, be ready in +case of illness and, to prevent illness, must direct +exercise, sleep, hygiene and sanitation, accepting the +responsibility not only of the present health of its +students, but also in large degree of their physical +power in the future. It generally furnishes them +means of social access to the best men and women +of their neighborhood; it draws to them leaders in +moral and social reforms, to give inspiration in high +ideals and generous self-sacrifice, and it undertakes +religious instruction while seeking still to respect +the varied faiths of its students. In short, the arrangements +of the woman’s college, as conceived by +founders, trustees, and faculty, have usually aimed +with conscious directness at building up character, +inspiring to the service of others, cultivating manners, +developing taste, and strengthening health, as well +as providing the means of sound learning.</p> +<p>It may be said that a similar upbuilding of the +personal life results from the training of every college +that is worthy of the name; and fortunately it +is impossible to enlarge knowledge without, to some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span> +extent, enlarging life. But the question is one of +directness or indirectness of aim. The woman’s college +puts this aim in the foreground side by side with +the acquisition of knowledge. By setting its students +apart in homogeneous companies, it seeks to cultivate +common ideals. Of its teaching force, a large number +are women who live with the students in the college +buildings, sit with them at table, join in their +festivities, and in numberless intimate ways share +and guide the common life. Every student, no matter +how large the college, has friendly access at any +time to several members of the faculty, quite apart +from her relations with them in the classroom. In +appointing these women to the faculty no board of +trustees would consider it sufficient that a candidate +was an accomplished specialist. She must be this, but +she should be also a lady of unobjectionable manners +and influential character; she should have amiability +and a discreet temper, for she is to be a guiding force +in a complex community, continually in the presence +of her students, an officer of administration and government +no less than of instruction. Harvard and +Johns Hopkins can ask their pupils to attend the lectures +of a great scholar, however brusque his bearing +or unbrushed his hair. They will not question their +geniuses too sharply, and will trust their students to +look out for their own proprieties of dress, manners, +and speech. But neither Wellesley nor any other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span> +woman’s college could find a place in its faculty for +a woman Sophocles or Sylvester. Learning alone is +not enough for women.</p> +<p>Not only in the appointment of its teaching body, +but in all its appliances the separate college aims at a +rounded refinement, at cultivating a sense of beauty, +at imparting simple tastes and generous sympathies. +To effect this, pictures are hung on the walls, statues +and flowers decorate the rooms, concerts bring music +to the magnified home, and parties and receptions +are paid for out of the college purse. The influence of +hundreds of mentally eager girls upon the characters +of one another, when they live for four years in the +closest daily companionship, is most interesting to +see. I have watched the ennobling process go on for +many years among Wellesley students, and I am +confident that no more healthy, generous, democratic, +beauty-loving, serviceable society of people +exists than the girls’ college community affords. That +choicest product of modern civilization, the American +girl, is here in all her diverse colors. She comes +from more than a dozen religious denominations and +from every political party; from nearly every state +and territory in the Union, and from the foreign +lands into which English and American missionaries, +merchants, or soldiers have penetrated. The farmer’s +daughter from the western prairies is beside the child +whose father owns half a dozen mill towns of New +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span> +England. The pride of a Southern senator’s home +rooms with an anxious girl who must borrow all the +money for her college course because her father’s life +was given for the Union. Side by side in the boats, +on the tennis-grounds, at the table, arm in arm on +the long walks, debating in the societies, vigorous +together in the gymnasium and the library, girls of +every grade gather the rich experiences which will +tincture their future toil, and make the world perpetually +seem an interesting and friendly place. They +here learn to “see great things large, and little things +small.”</p> +<p>This detailed explanation of the peculiarities of +the girls’ college renders unnecessary any long discussion +of its strengths and weaknesses. According +to the point of view of the critic these peculiarities +themselves will be counted means of invigoration or +of enfeeblement. Living so close to one another as +girls here do, the sympathetic and altruistic virtues +acquire great prominence. Petty selfishness retreats +or becomes extinct. An earnest, high-minded spirit +is easily cultivated, and the break between college life +and the life from which the student comes is reduced +to a minimum.</p> +<p>It is this very fact which is often alleged as the chief +objection to the girls’ college. It is said that its students +never escape from themselves and their domestic +standard, that they do not readily acquire a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span> +scientific spirit, and become individual in taste and +conduct. Is it desirable that they should? That I +shall not undertake to decide. I have merely tried to +explain the kinds of human work which the different +types of higher training-schools are best fitted to +effect for women. Whether the one or the other kind +of work needs most to be done is a question of social +ethics which the future must answer. I have set forth +a type, perhaps in the endeavor after clearness exaggerating +a little its outlines, and contrasting it +more sharply with its two neighbor types than individual +cases would justify. There are colleges for +women which closely approximate in aim and method +the colleges for men. No doubt those which move +furthest in the directions I have indicated are capable +of modification. But I believe what I have said +gives a substantially true account of an actually existing +type—a type powerful in stirring the enthusiasm +of those who are submitted to it, subtle in its +penetrating influences over them, and effective in +winning the confidence of a multitude of parents who +would never send their daughters to colleges of a +different type.</p> +<p>The third type is the “annex,” a recent and interesting +experiment in the education of girls, whose +future it is yet difficult to predict. Only a few cases +exist, and as the Harvard Annex is the most conspicuous, +by reason of its dozen years of age and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span> +nearly two hundred students, I shall describe it as +the typical example. In the Harvard Annex groups +of young women undertake courses of study in classes +whose instruction is furnished entirely by members +of the Harvard Faculty. No college officer is obliged +to give this instruction, and the Annex staff of teachers +is, therefore, liable to considerable variation +from year to year. Though the usual four classes +appear in its curriculum, the large majority of its +students devote themselves to special subjects. A +wealthy girl turns from fashionable society to pursue +a single course in history or economics; a hard-worked +teacher draws inspiration during a few afternoons +each week from a famous Greek or Latin professor; +a woman who has been long familiar with +French literature explores with a learned specialist +some single period in the history of the language. +Because the opportunities for advanced and detached +study are so tempting, many ladies living +in the neighborhood of the Annex enter one or +more of its courses. There are consequently among +its students women much older than the average of +those who attend the colleges.</p> +<p>The business arrangements are taken charge of by +a committee of ladies and gentlemen, who provide +classrooms, suggest boarding-places, secure the instructors, +solicit the interest of the public—in short, +manage all the details of an independent institution; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span> +for the noteworthy feature of its relation to its powerful +neighbor is this: that the two, while actively +friendly, have no official or organic tie whatever. In +the same city young men and young women of collegiate +rank are studying the same subjects under +the same instructors; but there are two colleges, not +one. No detail in the management of Harvard College +is changed by the presence in Cambridge of the +Harvard Annex. If the corporation of Harvard +should assume the financial responsibility, supervise +the government, and give the girl graduates degrees, +making no other changes whatever, the Annex would +then become a school of the university, about as distinct +from Harvard College as the medical, law, or +divinity schools. The students of the medical school +do not attend the same lectures or frequent the same +buildings as the college undergraduates. The immediate +governing boards of college and medical school +are separate. But here comparison fails, for the students +of the professional schools may elect courses +in the college and make use of all its resources. +This the young women cannot do. They have only +the rights of all Cambridge ladies to attend the many +public lectures and readings of the university.</p> +<p>The Harvard Annex is, then, to-day a woman’s +college, with no degrees, no dormitories, no women +instructors, and with a staff of teachers made up +from volunteers of another college. The Fay House, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span> +where offices, lecture and waiting rooms, library and +laboratories are gathered, is in the heart of Old +Cambridge, but at a little distance from the college +buildings. This is the centre of the social and literary +life of the students. Here they gather their friends at +afternoon teas; here the various clubs which have +sprung up, as numbers have increased, hold their +meetings and give their entertainments. The students +lodge in all parts of Cambridge and the neighboring +towns, and are directly responsible for their conduct +only to themselves. The ladies of the management are +lavish in time and care to make the girls’ lives happy +and wholesome; the secretary is always at hand to +give advice; but the personal life of the students is as +separate and independent as in the typical coeducational +college.</p> +<p>It is impossible to estimate either favorably or +adversely the permanent worth of an undertaking +still in its infancy. Manifestly, the opportunities +for the very highest training are here superb, if they +happen to exist at all. In this, however, is the incalculable +feature of the system. The Annex lives by +favor, not by right, and it is impossible to predict +what the extent of favor may at any time be. A girl +hears that an admirable course of lectures has been +given on a topic in which she is greatly interested. +She arranges to join the Annex and enter the course, +but learns in the summer vacation that through +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span> +pressure of other work the professor will be unable +to teach in the Annex the following year. The fact +that favor rules, and not rights, peculiarly hampers +scientific and laboratory courses, and for its literary +work obliges the Annex largely to depend on its own +library. Yet when all these weaknesses are confessed—and +by none are they confessed more frankly than +by the wise and devoted managers of the Annex +themselves—it should be said that hitherto they +have not practically hindered the formation of a spirit +of scholarship, eager, free and sane to an extraordinary +degree. The Annex girl succeeds in remaining +a private and unobserved gentlewoman, while still, +in certain directions, pushing her studies to an advanced +point seldom reached elsewhere.</p> +<p>A plan in some respects superficially analogous +to the American annex has been in operation for +many years at the English, and more recently at some +of the Scotch universities, where a hall or college for +women uses many of the resources of the university. +But this plan is so complicated with the peculiar +organization of English university life that it cannot +usefully be discussed here. In the few colleges in this +country where, very recently, the annex experiment +is being tried, its methods vary markedly.</p> +<p>Barnard College in New York is an annex of +Columbia only in a sense, for not all her instruction +is given by Columbia’s teaching force, though +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span> +Columbia will confer degrees upon her graduates. +The new Woman’s College at Cleveland sustains +temporarily the same relations to Adelbert College, +though to a still greater extent she provides independent +instruction.</p> +<p>In both Barnard and Cleveland women are engaged +in instruction and in government. Indeed, +the new annexes which have arisen in the last three +years seem to promise independent colleges for +women in the immediate neighborhood of, and in +close relationship with, older and better equipped +universities for men, whose resources they can to +some extent use, whose standards they can apply, +whose tests they can meet. When they possess a fixed +staff of teachers they are not, of course, liable to +the instabilities which at present beset the Harvard +Annex. So far, however, as these teachers belong +to the annex, and are not drawn from the neighboring +university, the annex is assimilated to the type of +the ordinary woman’s college, and loses its distinctive +merits. If the connection between it and the university +should ever become so close that it had the +same right to the professors as the university itself, +it would become a question whether the barriers +between the men’s and the women’s lecture rooms +could be economically maintained.</p> +<p>The preceding survey has shown how in coeducation +a woman’s study is carried on inside a man’s college, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span> +in the women’s college outside it, in the annex +beside it. Each of these situations has its advantage. +But will the community be content to accept this; +permanently to forego the counter advantages, and +even after it fully realizes the powers and limitations +of the different types, firmly to maintain them +in their distinctive vigor? Present indications render +this improbable. Already coeducational colleges incline +to more careful leadership for their girls. The +separate colleges, with growing wealth, are learning +to value intrepidity, and are carrying their operations +close up to the lands of the Ph.D. The annex swings +in its middle air, sometimes inclining to the one side, +sometimes to the other. And outside them all, the +great body of men’s colleges continually find it harder +to maintain their isolation, and extend one privilege +after another to the seeking sex.</p> +<p>The result of all these diversities is the most instructive +body of experiment that the world has seen +for determining the best ways of bringing woman to +her powers. While the public mind is so uncertain, so +liable to panic, and so doubtful whether, after all, +it is not better for a girl to be a goose, the many methods +of education assist one another mightily in their +united warfare against ignorance, selfish privileges, +and antiquated ideals. It is well that for a good while +to come woman’s higher education should be all +things to all mothers, if by any means it may save +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span> +girls. Those who are hardy enough may continue +to mingle their girls with men; while a parent who +would be shocked that her daughter should do anything +so ambiguous as to enter a man’s college may +be persuaded to send her to a girls’. Those who find +it easier to honor an old university than the eager life +of a young college, may be tempted into an annex. +The important thing is that the adherents of these +differing types should not fall into jealousy, and belittle +the value of those who are performing a work +which they themselves cannot do so well. To understand +one another kindly is the business of the hour—to +understand and to wait.</p> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0014' id='Footnote_0014'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0014'><span class='label'>[14]</span></a> +<p>Published in <i>The Forum</i> for September, 1891.</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span> +<a name='XIV_WOMENS_EDUCATION_IN_THE_NINETEENTH_CENTURY' id='XIV_WOMENS_EDUCATION_IN_THE_NINETEENTH_CENTURY'></a> +<h3>XIV +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />WOMEN’S EDUCATION IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY<a name='FNanchor_0015' id='FNanchor_0015'></a><a href='#Footnote_0015' class='fnanchor'>[15]</a></span></h3> +</div> +<p>One of the most distinctive and far-reaching +movements of the nineteenth century is that which +has brought about the present large opportunities +for the higher education of women. Confining itself +to no country, this vast movement has advanced +rapidly in some, slowly and timidly in others. In +America three broad periods mark its progress: first, +the period of quiescence, which ends about 1830; +second, the period of agitation, ending with the civil +war; the third, though far as yet from completion, +may be called the period of accomplishment.</p> +<p>For the first two hundred years in the history of +our country little importance was attached to the +education of women, though before the nineteenth +century began, twenty-four colleges had been founded +for the education of men. In the early years of this +century private schools for girls were expensive and +short-lived. The common schools were the only +grades of public instruction open to young women. +In the cities of Massachusetts, where more was done +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span> +for the education of boys than elsewhere, girls were +allowed to go to school only a small part of the year, +and in some places could even then use the schoolroom +only in the early hours of the day, or on +those afternoons when the boys had a half-holiday. +Anything like a careful training of girls was not +yet thought of.</p> +<p>This comparative neglect of women is less to be +wondered at when we remember that the colleges +which existed at the beginning of this century had +been founded to fit men for the learned professions, +chiefly for the ministry. Neither here nor elsewhere +was it customary to give advanced education to boys +destined for business. The country, too, was impoverished +by the long struggle for independence. +The Government was bankrupt, unable to pay its +veteran soldiers. Irritation and unrest were everywhere +prevalent until the ending of the second war +with England, in 1815. Immediately succeeding this +began that great migration to the West and South-west +which carried thousands of the most ambitious +young men and women from the East to push our +frontiers farther and farther into the wilderness. +Even in the older parts of the country the population +was widely scattered. The people lived for the most +part in villages and isolated farms. City life was uncommon. +As late as 1840 only nine per cent of the +population was living in cities of 8000 or more inhabitants. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span> +Under such conditions nothing more than +the bare necessities of education could be regarded.</p> +<p>But this very isolation bred a kind of equality. In +district schools it became natural for boys and girls +to study together and to receive the same instruction +from teachers who were often young and enthusiastic. +These were as a rule college students, granted long +winter vacations from their own studies that they +might earn money by teaching village schools. Thus +most young women shared with their brothers the +best elementary training the country afforded, while +college education was reserved for the few young men +who were preparing for the ministry or for some +other learned profession.</p> +<p>From the beginning it had been the general custom +of this country to educate boys and girls together +up to the college age. To-day in less than six per +cent of all our cities is there any separate provision of +schools for boys and girls. This habitual early start +together has made it natural for our men and women +subsequently to read the same books, to have the +same tastes and interests, and jointly to approve a +large social freedom. On the whole, women have +usually had more leisure than men for the cultivating +of scholarly tastes.</p> +<p>The first endowment of the higher education of +women in this country was made by the Moravians +in the seminary for girls which they founded at Bethlehem, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span> +Pennsylvania, in 1749. They founded another +girls’ seminary at Lititz in 1794. Though both +of these honorable foundations continue in effective +operation to-day, their influence has been for +the most part confined to the religious communion +of their founders. In 1804 an academy with wider +connections was founded at Bradford, Massachusetts, +at first open to boys and girls, since 1836 +limited to girls. From that time academies and seminaries +for girls increased rapidly. One of the most +notable was Troy Seminary, founded by Emma Hart +Willard and chartered in 1819. Miss Willard drew +up broad and original plans for the higher education +of girls, laid them before President Monroe, +appealed to the New York Legislature for aid, and +dreamed of establishing something like collegiate +training. More than three hundred students entered +her famous seminary, and for seventeen years +she carried it on with growing reputation. Her address +to the President in 1819 is still a strong statement +of the importance to the republic of an enlightened +and disciplined womanhood.</p> +<p>Even more influential was the life and work of +Mary Lyon, who in 1837 founded Mount Holyoke +Seminary, and labored for the education of women +until her death, in 1849. Of strong religious nature, +great courage and resource, she went up and down +New England securing funds and pupils. Her rare +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span> +gift of inspiring both men and women induced wide +acceptance of her ideals of character and intelligence. +Seminaries patterned after Mount Holyoke sprang +up all over the land, and still remain as centres of +powerful influence, particularly in the Middle West +and on the Pacific Coast.</p> +<p>With this development, through the endowment +of many excellent seminaries, of the primary education +of girls into something like secondary or high-school +opportunities, the period of quiescence comes +to an end. There follows a period of agitation when +the full privilege of college training side by side with +men was demanded for women. This agitation was +closely connected on the one hand with the antislavery +movement and the general passion for moral +reform at that time current; and, on the other, with +the interest in teaching and that study of its methods +which Horace Mann fostered. From 1830 to 1865 +it was becoming evident that women were destined +to have a large share in the instruction of children. +For this work they sought to fit themselves, and the +reformers aided them. Oberlin College, which began +as a collegiate institute in 1833, was in 1850 chartered +as a college. From the beginning it admitted +women, and in 1841 three women took its diploma. +Antioch College, under Horace Mann’s leadership, +opened in 1853, admitting women on equal terms +with men. In 1855 Elmira College was founded, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span> +first institution chartered as a separate college for +women.</p> +<p>Even before the Civil War the commercial interests +of the country had become so much extended that +trade was rising into a dignity comparable to that of +the learned professions. Men were more and more +deserting teaching for the business life, and their +places, at first chiefly in the lower grades, were being +filled by women. During the five years of the war +this supersession of men by women teachers advanced +rapidly. It has since acquired such impetus +that at present more than two thirds of the training +of the young of both sexes below the college grade +has fallen out of the hands of men. In the mean +time, too, though in smaller numbers, women have +invaded the other professions and have even entered +into trade. These demonstrations of a previously +unsuspected capacity have been both the cause and +the effect of enlarged opportunities for mental equipment. +The last thirty or forty years have seen the +opening of that new era in women’s education which +I have ventured to call the period of accomplishment.</p> +<p>From the middle of the century the movement to +open the state universities to women, to found colleges +for men and women on equal terms, and to +establish independent colleges for women spread +rapidly. From their first organization the state universities +of Utah (1850), Iowa (1856), Washington +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span> +(1862), Kansas (1866), Minnesota (1868), Nebraska +(1871) admitted women. Indiana, founded in 1820, +opened its doors to women in 1868, and was followed +in 1870 by Michigan, at that time the largest and far +the most influential of all the state universities. From +that time the movement became general. The example +of Michigan was followed until at the present +time all the colleges and universities of the West, +excepting those under Catholic management, are +open to women. The only state university in the East, +that of Maine, admitted women in 1872. Virginia, +Georgia, and Louisiana alone among all the state +universities of the country remain closed to women. +This sudden opening to women of practically all +universities supported by public funds is not more +extraordinary than the immense endowments which +during the same period have been put into independent +colleges for women, or into colleges which admit +men and women on equal terms. Of these privately +endowed colleges, Cornell, originally founded for +men, led the way in 1872 in opening its doors to women. +The West and South followed rapidly, the East +more slowly. Of the 480 colleges which at the end +of the century are reported by the Bureau of Education, +336 admit women; or, excluding the Catholic +colleges, 80 per cent of all are open to women. Of +the sixty leading colleges in the United States there +are only ten in which women are not admitted to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_344' name='page_344'></a>344</span> +some department. These ten are all on the Atlantic +seaboard and are all old foundations.</p> +<p>This substantial accomplishment during the last +forty years of the right of women to a college education +has not, however, resulted in fixing a single type +of college in which that education shall be obtained. +On the contrary, three clearly contrasted types now +exist side by side. These are the independent college, +the coeducational college, and the affiliated college.</p> +<p>To the independent college for women men are +not admitted, though the grade, the organization, +and the general aim are supposed to be the same as +in the colleges exclusively for men. The first college +of this type, Elmira (1855), has been already mentioned. +The four largest women’s colleges—Vassar, +opened in 1861; Smith, in 1875; Wellesley, in 1875, +and Bryn Mawr, in 1885—take rank among the +sixty leading colleges of the country in wealth, equipment, +teachers and students, and variety of studies +offered. Wells College, chartered as a college in 1870, +the Woman’s College of Baltimore, opened in 1888, +and Mt. Holyoke, reorganized as a college in 1893, +have also large endowments and attendance. All the +women’s colleges are empowered to confer the same +degrees as are given in the men’s colleges.</p> +<p>The development of coeducation, the prevailing +type of education in the United States for both men +and women, has already been sufficiently described. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_345' name='page_345'></a>345</span> +In coeducational colleges men and women have the +same instructors, recite in the same classes, and enjoy +the same freedom in choice of studies. To the +faculties of these colleges women are occasionally +appointed, and, like their male colleagues, teach +mixed classes of men and women. Many coeducational +colleges are without halls of residence. +Where these exist, special buildings are assigned to +the women students.</p> +<p>The affiliated colleges, while exclusively for women, +are closely connected with strong colleges for men, +whose equipment and opportunities they are expected +in some degree to share. At present there are +five such: Radcliffe College, the originator of this +type, connected with Harvard University, and opened +in 1879; Sophie Newcomb Memorial College, at +Tulane University, opened in 1886; the College for +Women of Western Reserve University, 1888; Barnard +College, at Columbia University, 1889; the +Woman’s College of Brown University, 1892. In all +these colleges the standards for entrance and graduation +are the same as those exacted from men in the +universities with which they are affiliated. To a considerable +extent the instructors also are the same.</p> +<p>During the last quarter-century many professional +schools have been opened to women—schools of +theology, law, medicine, dentistry, pharmacy, technology, +agriculture. The number of women entering +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_346' name='page_346'></a>346</span> +these professions is rapidly increasing. Since 1890 +the increase of women students in medicine is 64 per +cent, in dentistry 205 per cent, in pharmacy 190 per +cent, in technology and agriculture 194 per cent.</p> +<p>While this great advance has been accomplished +in America, women in England and on the Continent, +especially during the last thirty years, have been +demanding better education. Though much more +slowly and in fewer numbers than in this country, +they have everywhere succeeded in securing decided +advantages. No country now refuses them a share in +liberal study, in the instruction of young children, +and in the profession of medicine. As might be expected, +English-speaking women, far more than any +others, have won and used the opportunities of university +training. Since 1860 women have been studying +at Cambridge, England, and since 1879 at Oxford. +At these ancient seats of learning they have +now every privilege except the formal degree. To +all other English and Scotch universities, and to the +universities of the British colonies, women are admitted, +and from them they receive degrees.</p> +<p>In the most northern countries of Europe—in +Iceland, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark—the +high schools and universities are freely open to women. +In eastern Europe able women have made +efforts to secure advanced study, and these efforts +have been most persistent in Russia and since the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_347' name='page_347'></a>347</span> +Crimean war. When denied in their own land, Russian +women have flocked to the Swiss and French +universities, and have even gone in considerable +numbers to Finland and to Italy. Now Russia is +slowly responding to its women’s entreaties. During +the last ten years the universities of Rumania, Bulgaria, +Hungary, and Greece have been open to women; +while in Constantinople the American College +for Girls offers the women of the East the systematic +training of the New England type of college. In +western, central, and southern Europe all university +doors are open. In these countries, degrees and honors +may everywhere be had by women, except in +Germany and Austria. Even here, by special permission +of the Minister of Education, or the professor +in charge, women may hear lectures. Each +year, too, more women are granted degrees by special +vote and as exceptional cases.</p> +<p>In brief, it may be said that practically all European +universities are now open to women. No American +woman of scholarship, properly qualified for the +work she undertakes, need fear refusal if she seeks +the instruction of the greatest European scholars +in her chosen field. Each year American women are +taking with distinction the highest university degrees +of the Continent. To aid them, many fellowships and +graduate scholarships, ranging in value from $300 to +$1000, are offered for foreign study by our colleges +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_348' name='page_348'></a>348</span> +for women and by private associations of women who +seek to promote scholarship. Large numbers of ambitious +young women who are preparing themselves +for teaching or for the higher fields of scientific research +annually compete for this aid. Three years +ago an association was formed for maintaining an +American woman’s table in the Zoölogical Station +at Naples. By paying $500 a year they are thus able +to grant to selected students the most favorable conditions +for biological investigation. This association +has also just offered a prize of $1000, to be granted +two years hence, for the best piece of original scientific +work done in the mean time by a woman. The +American Schools of Classical Studies in Athens and +Rome admit women on the same terms as men, and +award their fellowships to men and women indifferently. +One of these fellowships, amounting to $1000 +a year, has just been won by a woman.</p> +<p>The experience, then, of the last thirty years shows +a condition of women’s education undreamed of at +the beginning of the century. It shows that though +still hampered here and there by timorous restrictions, +women are in substantial possession of much the +same opportunities as are available for men. It shows +that they have both the capacity and the desire for +college training, that they can make profitable and +approved use of it when obtained, and that they are +eager for that broader and more original study after +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_349' name='page_349'></a>349</span> +college work is over which is at once the most novel +and the most glorious feature of university education +to-day. Indeed, women have taken more than their +due proportion of the prizes, honors, and fellowships +which have been accessible to them on the same +terms as to men. Their resort to institutions of higher +learning has increased far more than that of men. +In 1872 the total number of college students in each +million of population was 590. Last year it had risen +to 1270, much more than doubling in twenty-seven +years. During this time the number of men had +risen from 540 to 947, or had not quite doubled. The +women rose from 50 in 1872 to 323 in 1899, having +increased their former proportional number more +than six times, and this advance has also been maintained +in graduate and professional schools.</p> +<p>The immensity of the change which the last century +has wrought in women’s education may best be seen +by setting side by side the conditions at its beginning +and at its close. In 1800 no colleges for women existed, +and only two endowed schools for girls—these +belonging to a small German sect. They had no high +schools, and the best grammar schools in cities were +open to them only under restrictions. The commoner +grammar and district schools, and an occasional +private school dedicated to “accomplishments,” +were their only avenues to learning. There +was little hostility to their education, since it was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_350' name='page_350'></a>350</span> +generally assumed by men and by themselves that +intellectual matters did not concern them. No profession +was open to them, not even that of teaching, +and only seven possible trades and occupations.</p> +<p>In 1900 a third of all the college students in the +United States are women. Sixty per cent of the pupils +in the secondary schools, both public and private, are +girls—<i>i.e.</i> more girls are preparing for college than +boys. Women having in general more leisure than +men, there is reason to expect that there will soon +be more women than men in our colleges and graduate +schools. The time, too, has passed when girls +went to college to prepare themselves solely for teaching +or for other bread-winning occupations. In considerable +numbers they now seek intellectual resources +and the enrichment of their private lives. +Thus far between 50 and 60 per cent of women college +graduates have at some time taught. In the +country at large more than 70 per cent of the teaching +is done by women, in the North Atlantic portion +over 80 per cent. Even in the secondary schools, +public and private, more women than men are teaching, +though in all other countries the advanced instruction +of boys is exclusively in the hands of men. +Never before has a nation intrusted all the school +training of the vast majority of its future population, +men as well as women, to women alone.</p> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0015' id='Footnote_0015'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0015'><span class='label'>[15]</span></a> +<p>Published in <i>The New York Evening Post</i>, 1900.</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_351' name='page_351'></a>351</span> +<a name='XV_WOMENS_EDUCATION_AT_THE_WORLDS_FAIR' id='XV_WOMENS_EDUCATION_AT_THE_WORLDS_FAIR'></a> +<h3>XV +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />WOMEN’S EDUCATION AT THE WORLD’S FAIR<a name='FNanchor_0016' id='FNanchor_0016'></a><a href='#Footnote_0016' class='fnanchor'>[16]</a></span></h3> +</div> +<p>Few persons have stood in the Court of Honor at +Chicago and felt the surpassing splendors gathered +there, without a certain dismay over its swiftly approaching +disappearance. Never in the world before +has beauty been so lavish and so transient. Probably +in all departments of the Fair a hundred million dollars +have been spent. Now the nation’s holiday is +done, the little half-year is over, and the palaces with +their widely gathered treasures vanish like a dream. +Is all indeed gone? Will nothing remain? Wise +observers perceive some permanent results of the +merry-making. What these will be in the busy life +of men, others may decide: I point out chiefly a few +of the beneficial influences of the great Fair on the +life of women.</p> +<p>The triumph of women in what may be called their +detached existence, that is, in their guidance of themselves +and the separated affairs of their sex, has been +unexpectedly great. The Government appointed an +independent Board of Lady Managers who, through +many difficulties, gathered from every quarter of the +globe interesting exhibits of feminine industry and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_352' name='page_352'></a>352</span> +skill. These they gracefully disposed in one of the +most dignified buildings of the Fair, itself a woman’s +design. Here they attractively illustrated every aspect +of the life of women, domestic, philanthropic, commercial, +literary, artistic, and traced their historic +advance. Close at hand, in another building also of +their own erection, they appropriately appeared as +the guardians and teachers of little children. Their +halls were crowded, their dinners praised, their reception +invitations coveted. Throughout they showed +organizing ability on a huge scale; they developed +noteworthy leaders; what is more, they followed +them, and they have quarrelled no more, and have +pulled wires less, than men in similar situations; +their courage, their energy, their tact in the erection +of a monument to woman were astonishing; and the +efforts of their Central Board were efficiently seconded +by similar companies in every state. As in the Sanitary +and Christian Commissions and the hospital +service of the war, in the multitude of women’s clubs, +the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, the +King’s Daughters, the associations for promoting +women’s suffrage, so once more here women found +an opportunity to prove their ability as a banded sex; +and it is clear that they awakened in the nation a +deeper respect for their powers.</p> +<p>But the very triumph does away with its further +necessity. Having amply proved what they can do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_353' name='page_353'></a>353</span> +when banded together, women may now the more +easily cease to treat themselves as a peculiar people. +Henceforth they are human beings. Women’s buildings, +women’s exhibits, may safely become things of +the past. At any future fair no special treatment of +women is likely to be called for. After what has +been achieved, the self-consciousness of women will +be lessened, and their sensitiveness about their own +position, capacity, and rights will be naturally outgrown. +The anthropologist may perhaps still assemble +the work of a single sex, the work of people of a +single color, or of those having blue eyes. But ordinary +people will find less and less interest in these +artificial classifications, and will more and more +incline to measure men’s and women’s products by +the same scale. Even at Chicago large numbers of +women preferred to range their exhibits in the common +halls rather than under feminine banners, and +their demonstration of the needlessness of any special +treatment of their sex must be reckoned as one of the +most considerable of the permanent gains for women +from the Fair.</p> +<p>If, then, women have demonstrated that they are +more than isolated phenomena, that they should +indeed be treated as integral members of the human +family, in order to estimate rightly the lasting advantages +they have derived from the Fair we must seek +those advantages not in isolations but in conjunctions. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_354' name='page_354'></a>354</span> +In the common life of man there is a womanly side +and a manly side. Both have profited by one splendid +event. Manufactures and transportation and +mining and agriculture will hereafter be different +because of what has occurred at Chicago; but so will +domestic science, the training of the young, the swift +intellectual interest, the finer patriotism, the apprehension +of beauty, the moral balance. It is by +growth in these things that the emancipation of +women is to come about, and the Fair has fostered +them all in an extraordinary degree.</p> +<p>Although the Fair was officially known as a World’s +Fair, and it did contain honorable contributions from +many foreign countries, it was, in a sense that no other +exhibition has been before, a nation’s fair. It was the +climacteric expression of America’s existence. It +gathered together our past and our present, and indicated +not uncertainly our future. Here were made +visible our beginnings, our achievements, our hopes, +our dreams. The nation became conscious of itself +and was strong, beautiful, proud. All sections of the +country not only contributed their most characteristic +objects of use and beauty, but their inhabitants also +came, and learned to know one another, and their +land. During the last two years there has hardly been +a village in the country which has not had its club or +circle studying the history of the United States. No +section has been too poor to subscribe money for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_355' name='page_355'></a>355</span> +maintaining national or state pride. In order to see +the great result, men have mortgaged their farms, +lonely women have taken heavy life insurance, stringent +economy will gladly be practised for years. A +friend tells me that she saw an old man, as he left +the Court of Honor with tears in his eyes, turn to his +gray-haired wife and say, “Well, Susan, it paid even +if it did take all the burial money.”</p> +<p>Once before, we reached a similar pitch of national +consciousness,—in war. Young, unprepared, divided +against ourselves, we found ourselves able to +mass great armies, endure long strains, organize +campaigns, commissariats, hospitals, in altogether +independent ways, and on a scale greater than Europe +had seen. Then men and women alike learned the +value of mutual confidence, the strength of coöperation +and organization. Once again now, but this time +in the interest of beauty and of peace, we have studied +the art of subordinating fragmentary interests to those +of a whole. The training we have received as a nation +in producing and studying the Fair, must result +in a deeper national dignity, which will both free us +from irritating sensitiveness over foreign criticism, +and give us readiness to learn from other countries +whatever lessons they can teach. Our own provinces +too will become less provincial. With increased acquaintance, +the East has begun to drop its toleration +of the West, and to put friendliness and honor in its +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_356' name='page_356'></a>356</span> +place. No more will it be believed along the Atlantic +coast that the Mississippi Valley cares only for +pork, grain and lumber. As such superstitions decay, +a more trustful unity becomes possible. The entire +nation knows itself a nation, possessed of common +ideals. In this heightened national dignity, women +will have a large and ennobling share.</p> +<p>But further, from the Fair men, and women with +them, have acquired a new sense of the gains that +come from minute obedience to law. Hitherto, “go +as you please” has been pretty largely the principle +of American life. In the training school of the last +two years of preparation and the six months of the +holding of the Fair, our people, particularly our +women, have been solidly taught the hard and needful +lesson that whims, waywardness, haste, inaccuracy, +pettiness, personal considerations, do not make +for strength. Wherever these have entered, they have +flawed the beautiful whole, and flecked the honor of +us all. Where they have been absent results have +appeared which make us all rejoice. Never in so wide +an undertaking was the unity of a single design so +triumphant. As an unknown multitude coöperated +in the building of a mediæval cathedral, so throughout +our land multitudes have been daily ready to +contribute their unmarked best for the erection of a +common glory. We have thus learned to prize second +thoughts above first thoughts, to league our lives and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_357' name='page_357'></a>357</span> +purposes with those of others, and to subordinate +the assertion of ourselves to that of a universal reason. +Hence has sprung a new trust in one another and +a new confidence in our future. The friendliness of +our people, already rendered natural by our democratic +institutions, has received a deeper sanction. +How distinctly it was marked on the faces of the visitors +at the Fair! I was fortunate enough to spend +several hours there on Chicago Day, when nearly +seven hundred and fifty thousand people were admitted. +The appearance of those plain, intelligent, +happy, helpful thousands, all strangers and all kind, +was the most encouraging sight one woman had at +the Fair. It has been said that the moral education of +a child consists in imparting to him the three qualities, +obedience, sympathy, dignity. These all have +been taught by the Fair, and women, more swiftly +perceptive than men, have probably learned their +lesson best.</p> +<p>One more profound effect of the Fair upon human +character must be mentioned, on character in those +features which are of especial importance to women. +Our people have here gained a new sense of beauty, +and of beauty at its highest and rarest, not the beauty +of ornament and decoration, but that of proportion, +balance, and ordered suitability of parts. Every girl +likes pretty things, but the rational basis of beauty +in the harmonious expression of use, and in furnishing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_358' name='page_358'></a>358</span> +to the eye the quiet satisfaction of its normal demands, +seldom attracts attention. At Chicago these +things became apparent. Each building outwardly +announced its inner purpose. Each gained its effect +mainly by outline and balance of masses rather than +by richness of detail. Each was designed in reference +to its site and to its neighbor buildings. Almost +every one rested the eye which it still stimulated. +Color, form, purpose, proportion, sculpture, vegetation, +stretches of water, the brown earth, all coöperated +toward the happy effect. What visitor could see +it and not have begotten in him the demand for +beauty in his own surroundings? It is said that the +Centennial Exhibition affected the domestic architecture +and the household decoration of the whole +eastern seaboard. The Fair will do the same, but it +will bring about a beauty of a higher, simpler sort. +In people from every section, artistic taste has been +developed, or even created; and not only in their +houses, but in the architecture of their public buildings +and streets shall we see the results of this vision +of the White City by the Lake. Huddled houses in +incongruous surroundings will become less common. +At heart we Americans are idealists, and at a time +when the general wealth is rapidly increasing, it is +an indescribable gain to have had such a training of +the æsthetic sense as days among the great buildings +and nights on the lagoons have brought to millions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_359' name='page_359'></a>359</span> +of our people. The teachability of the common +American is almost pathetic. One building was +always crowded—the Fine Arts Building; yet great +pictures were the one thing exhibited with which +Americans have hitherto had little or no acquaintance. +This beauty, connected essentially with the feminine +side of life, will hereafter, through the influence of +the Fair, become a more usual possession of us all.</p> +<p>If such are the permanent gains for character which +women in common with men, yet even more than +they, have derived from the Fair, there remain to be +considered certain helps which have been brought +to women in some of their most distinctive occupations. +Of course they have had here an opportunity +to compare the different kinds of sewing-machines, +pianos, type-writers, telegraphs, clothes-wringers, +stoves, and baby-carriages, and no doubt they will +do their future work with these complicated engines +more effectively because of such comparative study. +But there are three departments which ancestral +usage has especially consecrated to women, and to +intelligent methods in each of these the Fair has given +a mighty impulse. These three departments are the +care of the home, the care of the young, and the care +of the sick, the poor, and the depraved.</p> +<p>At Philadelphia in 1876 Vienna bread was made +known, and the native article, sodden with saleratus, +which up to that time had desolated the country, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_360' name='page_360'></a>360</span> +began to disappear. The results in cookery from the +Chicago Exhibition will be wider. They touch the +kitchen with intelligence at more points. Where +tradition has reigned unquestioned, science is beginning +to penetrate, and we are no longer allowed +to eat without asking why and what. This new +“domestic science”—threatening word—was set +forth admirably in the Rumford Kitchen, where a +capital thirty-cent luncheon was served every day, +compounded of just those ingredients which the +human frame could be demonstrated to require. +The health-food companies, too, arrayed their appetizing +wares. Workingmen’s homes showed on how +small a sum a family could live, and live well. Arrangements +for sterilizing water and milk were there, +Atkinson cookers, gas and kerosene stoves. The +proper sanitation of the home was taught, and boards +of health turned out to the plain gaze of the world +their inquisitorial processes. Numberless means of +increasing the health, ease, and happiness of the +household with the least expenditure of time and +money were here studied by crowds of despairing +housekeepers. Many, no doubt, were bewildered; but +many, too, went away convinced that the most ancient +employment of women was rising to the dignity and +attractiveness of a learned profession.</p> +<p>When it is remembered that nine tenths of the +teachers of elementary schools are women, it can be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_361' name='page_361'></a>361</span> +seen how important for them was the magnificent +educational exhibit. Here could be studied all that +the age counts best in kindergarten, primary, grammar, +high and normal schools, and in all the varieties +of training in cookery, sewing, dressmaking, manual +training, drawing, painting, carving. Many of the +exhibitors showed great skill in making their methods +apprehensible to the stranger.</p> +<p>And then there were the modes of bodily training, +and the lamentable image of the misformed average +girl; and in the children’s building classes could actually +be seen engaged in happy exercise, and close +at hand appliances for the nursery and the playground. +Nor in the enlarged appliances for woman’s +domestic life must those be omitted which tell how +cheaply and richly the girl may now obtain a college +training like her brother, and become as intelligent +as he. No woman went away from the educational +exhibits of the Fair in the belief that woman’s sphere +was necessarily narrow.</p> +<p>There is no need to dilate on the light shed by the +Fair upon problems of sickness, poverty, and crime. +Everybody knows that nothing so complete had been +seen before. The Anthropological Building was a +museum of these subjects, and scattered in other +parts of the Fair was much to interest the puzzled +and sympathetic soul. One could find out what an +ideal hospital was like, and how its service and appliances +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_362' name='page_362'></a>362</span> +should be ordered. One studied under competent +teachers the care of the dependent and delinquent +classes. One learned to distinguish surface +charity from sound. As men grow busier and women +more competent, the guidance of philanthropy +passes continually more and more into the gentler +hands. Women serve largely on boards of hospitals, +prisons, charities, and reforms, and urgently feel the +need of ampler knowledge. The Fair did much to +show them ways of obtaining it.</p> +<p>Such are the permanent results of the Fair most +likely to affect women. They fall into three classes: +the proofs women have given of their independent +power, their ability to organize and to work toward +a distant, difficult, and complex end; the enlargement +of their outlook, manifesting itself in a new sense of +membership in a nation, a more willing obedience +to law, and a higher appreciation of beauty; and, +lastly, the direct assistance given to women in their +more characteristic employments of housekeeping, +teaching, and ministering to the afflicted. That these +are all, or even the most important, results which each +woman will judge she has obtained, is not pretended. +Everybody saw at the Fair something which brought +to individual him or her a gain incomparable.</p> +<p>And, after all, the greatest thing was the total, +glittering, murmurous, restful, magical, evanescent +Fair itself, seated by the blue waters, wearing the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_363' name='page_363'></a>363</span> +five crowns, served by novel boatmen, and with the lap +so full of treasure that as piece by piece it was held up, +it shone, was wondered at, and was lost again in the +pile. This amazing spectacle will flash for years +upon the inward eye of our people, and be a joy of +their solitude.</p> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0016' id='Footnote_0016'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0016'><span class='label'>[16]</span></a> +<p>Published in <i>The Forum</i> for December, 1891.</p> +</div> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_364' name='page_364'></a>364</span> +<a name='XVI_WHY_GO_TO_COLLEGE' id='XVI_WHY_GO_TO_COLLEGE'></a> +<h3>XVI +<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />WHY GO TO COLLEGE?</span></h3> +</div> +<p>To a largely increasing number of young girls college +doors are opening every year. Every year adds +to the number of men who feel as a friend of mine, +a successful lawyer in a great city, felt when in talking +of the future of his four little children he said, +“For the two boys it is not so serious, but I lie down +at night afraid to die and leave my daughters only +a bank account.” Year by year, too, the experiences +of life are teaching mothers that happiness does not +necessarily come to their daughters when accounts +are large and banks are sound, but that on the contrary +they take grave risks when they trust everything +to accumulated wealth and the chance of a +happy marriage. Our American girls themselves +are becoming aware that they need the stimulus, the +discipline, the knowledge, the interests of the college +in addition to the school, if they are to prepare themselves +for the most serviceable lives.</p> +<p>But there are still parents who say, “There is +no need that my daughter should teach; then why +should she go to college?” I will not reply that college +training is a life insurance for a girl, a pledge +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_365' name='page_365'></a>365</span> +that she possesses the disciplined ability to earn a +living for herself and others in case of need; for I +prefer to insist on the importance of giving every girl, +no matter what her present circumstances, a special +training in some one thing by which she can render +society service, not of amateur but of expert sort, +and service too for which it will be willing to pay a +price. The number of families will surely increase +who will follow the example of an eminent banker +whose daughters have been given each her specialty. +One has chosen music, and has gone far with the +best masters in this country and in Europe, so far that +she now holds a high rank among musicians at home +and abroad. Another has taken art; and has not +been content to paint pretty gifts for her friends, but +in the studios of New York, Munich, and Paris she +has won the right to be called an artist, and in her +studio at home to paint portraits which have a market +value. A third has proved that she can earn her +living, if need be, by her exquisite jellies, preserves, +and sweetmeats. Yet the house in the mountains, +the house by the sea, and the friends in the city are +not neglected, nor are these young women found +less attractive because of their special accomplishments.</p> +<p>While it is not true that all girls should go to college +any more than that all boys should go, it is +nevertheless true that they should go in greater numbers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_366' name='page_366'></a>366</span> +than at present. They fail to go because they, +their parents, and their teachers, do not see clearly +the personal benefits distinct from the commercial +value of a college training. I wish here to discuss +these benefits, these larger gifts of the college life,—what +they may be, and for whom they are waiting.</p> +<p>It is undoubtedly true that many girls are totally +unfitted by home and school life for a valuable college +course. These joys and successes, these high +interests and friendships, are not for the self-conscious +and nervous invalid, nor for her who in the +exuberance of youth recklessly ignores the laws of +a healthy life. The good society of scholars and of +libraries and laboratories has no place and no attraction +for her who finds no message in Plato, no +beauty in mathematical order, and who never longs +to know the meaning of the stars over her head or +the flowers under her feet. Neither will the finer +opportunities of college life appeal to one who, until +she is eighteen (is there such a girl in this country?), +has felt no passion for the service of others, no desire +to know if through history, or philosophy, or any +study of the laws of society, she can learn why the +world is so sad, so hard, so selfish as she finds it, even +when she looks upon it from the most sheltered life. +No, the college cannot be, should not try to be, a +substitute for the hospital, reformatory, or kindergarten. +To do its best work it should be organized +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_367' name='page_367'></a>367</span> +for the strong, not for the weak; for the high-minded, +self-controlled, generous, and courageous spirits, +not for the indifferent, the dull, the idle, or those +who are already forming their characters on the +amusement theory of life. All these perverted young +people may, and often do, get large benefit and invigoration, +new ideals, and unselfish purposes from +their four years’ companionship with teachers and +comrades of a higher physical, mental, and moral +stature than their own. I have seen girls change so +much in college that I have wondered if their friends +at home would know them,—the voice, the carriage, +the unconscious manner, all telling a story of new +tastes and habits and loves and interests, that had +wrought out in very truth a new creature. Yet in +spite of this I have sometimes thought that in college +more than elsewhere the old law holds, “To him +that hath shall be given and he shall have abundance, +but from him who hath not shall be taken away even +that which he seemeth to have.” For it is the young +life which is open and prepared to receive which +obtains the gracious and uplifting influences of +college days. What, then, for such persons are the +rich and abiding rewards of study in college or +university?</p> +<p>Preëminently the college is a place of education. +That is the ground of its being. We go to college to +know, assured that knowledge is sweet and powerful, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_368' name='page_368'></a>368</span> +that a good education emancipates the mind +and makes us citizens of the world. No college which +does not thoroughly educate can be called good, no +matter what else it does. No student who fails to +get a little knowledge on many subjects, and much +knowledge on some, can be said to have succeeded, +whatever other advantages she may have found by +the way. It is a beautiful and significant fact that +in all times the years of learning have been also the +years of romance. Those who love girls and boys +pray that our colleges may be homes of sound learning, +for knowledge is the condition of every college +blessing. “Let no man incapable of mathematics +enter here,” Plato is reported to have inscribed over +his Academy door. “Let no one to whom hard study +is repulsive hope for anything from us,” American +colleges might paraphrase. Accordingly in my talk +to-day I shall say little of the direct benefits of +knowledge which the college affords. These may be +assumed. It is on their account that one knocks at +the college door. But seeking this first, a good many +other things are added. I want to point out some +of these collateral advantages of going to college, or +rather to draw attention to some of the many forms +in which the winning of knowledge presents itself.</p> +<p>The first of these is happiness. Everybody wants +“a good time,” especially every girl in her teens. +A good time, it is true, does not always in these years +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_369' name='page_369'></a>369</span> +mean what it will mean by and by, any more than the +girl of eighteen plays with the doll which entranced +the child of eight. It takes some time to discover +that work is the best sort of play, and some people +never discover it at all. But when mothers ask such +questions as these: “How can I make my daughter +happy?” “How can I give her the best society?” +“How can she have a good time?” the answer in +most cases is simple. Send her to college—to almost +any college. Send her because there is no other +place where between eighteen and twenty-two she +is so likely to have a genuinely good time. Merely +for good times, for romance, for society, college life +offers unequalled opportunities. Of course no idle +person can possibly be happy, even for a day, nor +she who makes a business of trying to amuse herself. +For full happiness, though its springs are within, +we want health and friends and work and objects of +aspiration. “We live by admiration, hope, and love,” +says Wordsworth. The college abounds in all three. +In the college time new powers are sprouting, and +intelligence, merriment, truthfulness, and generosity +are more natural than the opposite qualities often +become in later years. An exhilarating atmosphere +pervades the place. We who are in it all the time +feel that we live at the fountain of perpetual youth, +and those who take but a four years’ bath in it become +more cheerful, strong, and full of promise than +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_370' name='page_370'></a>370</span> +they are ever likely to find themselves again; for a +college is a kind of compendium of the things that +most men long for. It is usually planted in a beautiful +spot, the charm of trees and water being added +to stately buildings and stimulating works of art. +Venerable associations of the past hallow its halls. +Leaders in the stirring world of to-day return at each +Commencement to share the fresh life of the new +class. Books, pictures, music, collections, appliances +in every field, learned teachers, mirthful friends, athletics +for holidays, the best words of the best men +for holy days,—all are here. No wonder that men +look back upon their college life as upon halcyon +days, the romantic period of youth. No wonder that +Dr. Holmes’s poems to his Harvard classmates find +an echo in college reunions everywhere; and gray-haired +men, who outside the narrowing circle of +home have not heard their first names for years, remain +Bill and Joe and John and George to college +comrades, even if unseen for more than a generation.</p> +<p>Yet a girl should go to college not merely to obtain +four happy years, but to make a second gain, which +is often overlooked, and is little understood even +when perceived; I mean a gain in health. The old +notion that low vitality is a matter of course with +women; that to be delicate is a mark of superior refinement, +especially in well-to-do families; that sickness +is a dispensation of Providence,—these notions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_371' name='page_371'></a>371</span> +meet with no acceptance in college. Years ago I saw +in the mirror frame of a college freshman’s room +this little formula: “Sickness is carelessness, carelessness +is selfishness, and selfishness is sin.” And +I have often noticed among college girls an air of +humiliation and shame when obliged to confess a +lack of physical vigor, as if they were convicted of +managing life with bad judgment, or of some moral +delinquency. With the spreading scientific conviction +that health is a matter largely under each person’s +control, that even inherited tendencies to disease +need not be allowed to run their riotous course +unchecked, there comes an earnest purpose to be +strong and free. Fascinating fields of knowledge +are waiting to be explored; possibilities of doing, +as well as of knowing, are on every side; new and +dear friendships enlarge and sweeten dreams of future +study and work, and the young student cannot +afford quivering nerves or small lungs or an aching +head any more than bad taste, rough manners, or +a weak will. Handicapped by inheritance or bad +training, she finds the plan of college life itself her +supporter and friend. The steady, long-continued +routine of mental work, physical exercise, recreation, +and sleep, the simple and wholesome food, in place +of irregular and unstudied diet, work out salvation +for her. Instead of being left to go out of doors when +she feels like it, the regular training of the gymnasium, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_372' name='page_372'></a>372</span> +the boats on lake and river, the tennis court, the golf +links, the basket ball, the bicycle, the long walk +among the woods in search of botanical or geological +specimens,—all these and many more call to the +busy student, until she realizes that they have their +rightful place in every well-ordered day of every +month. So she learns, little by little, that buoyant +health is a precious possession to be won and kept.</p> +<p>It is significant that already statistical investigation +in this country and in England shows that the standard +of health is higher among the women who hold +college degrees than among any other equal number +of the same age and class. And it is interesting also +to observe to what sort of questions our recent girl +graduates have been inclined to devote attention. +They have been largely the neglected problems of +little children and their health, of home sanitation, +of food and its choice and preparation, of domestic +service, of the cleanliness of schools and public buildings. +Colleges for girls are pledged by their very constitution +to make persistent war on the water cure, +the nervine retreat, the insane asylum, the hospital,—those +bitter fruits of the emotional lives of thousands +of women. “I can never afford a sick headache +again, life is so interesting and there is so +much to do,” a delicate girl said to me at the end of +her first college year. And while her mother was in +a far-off invalid retreat, she undertook the battle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_373' name='page_373'></a>373</span> +against fate with the same intelligence and courage +which she put into her calculus problems and her +translations of Sophocles. Her beautiful home and +her rosy and happy children prove the measure of +her hard-won success. Formerly the majority of +physicians had but one question for the mother +of the nervous and delicate girl, “Does she go to +school?” And only one prescription, “Take her out +of school.” Never a suggestion as to suppers of +pickles and pound-cake, never a hint about midnight +dancing and hurried daytime ways. But now the +sensible doctor asks, “What are her interests? What +are her tastes? What are her habits?” And he finds +new interests for her, and urges the formation of +out-of-door tastes and steady occupation for the mind, +in order to draw the morbid girl from herself into +the invigorating world outside. This the college does +largely through its third gift of friendship.</p> +<p>Until a girl goes away from home to school or college, +her friends are chiefly chosen for her by circumstances. +Her young relatives, her neighbors in +the same street, those who happen to go to the same +school or church,—these she makes her girlish +intimates. She goes to college with the entire conviction, +half unknown to herself, that her father’s +political party contains all the honest men, her mother’s +social circle all the true ladies, her church all +the real saints of the community. And the smaller +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_374' name='page_374'></a>374</span> +the town, the more absolute is her belief. But in college +she finds that the girl who earned her scholarship +in the village school sits beside the banker’s daughter; +the New England farmer’s child rooms next the +heiress of a Hawaiian sugar plantation; the daughters +of the opposing candidates in a sharply fought +election have grown great friends in college boats +and laboratories; and before her diploma is won she +realizes how much richer a world she lives in than +she ever dreamed of at home. The wealth that lies +in differences has dawned upon her vision. It is only +when the rich and poor sit down together that either +can understand how the Lord is the Maker of them +all.</p> +<p>To-day above all things we need the influence of +men and women of friendliness, of generous nature, +of hospitality to new ideas, in short, of social imagination. +But instead, we find each political party +bitterly calling the other dishonest, each class suspicious +of the intentions of the other, and in social +life the pettiest standards of conduct. Is it not +well for us that the colleges all over the country +still offer to their fortunate students a society of +the most democratic sort,—one in which a father’s +money, a mother’s social position, can assure no +distinction and make no close friends? Here capacity +of every kind counts for its full value. Here +enthusiasm waits to make heroes of those who can +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_375' name='page_375'></a>375</span> +lead. Here charming manners, noble character, +amiable temper, scholarly power, find their full opportunity +and inspire such friendships as are seldom +made afterward. I have forgotten my chemistry, +and my classical philology cannot bear examination; +but all round the world there are men and women +at work, my intimates of college days, who have made +the wide earth a friendly place to me. Of every creed, +of every party, in far-away places and in near, the +thought of them makes me more courageous in duty +and more faithful to opportunity, though for many +years we may not have had time to write each other a +letter. The basis of all valuable and enduring friendships +is not accident or juxtaposition, but tastes, interests, +habits, work, ambitions. It is for this reason +that to college friendship clings a romance entirely +its own. One of the friends may spend her days +in the laboratory, eagerly chasing the shy facts that +hide beyond the microscope’s fine vision, and the other +may fill her hours and her heart with the poets and +the philosophers; one may steadfastly pursue her +way toward the command of a hospital, and the other +toward the world of letters and of art; these divergences +constitute no barrier, but rather an aid to the +fulness of friendship. And the fact that one goes in a +simple gown which she has earned and made herself, +and the other lives when at home in a merchant’s +modern palace—what has that to do with the things +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_376' name='page_376'></a>376</span> +the girls care about and the dreams they talk over in +the walk by the river or the bicycle ride through country +roads? If any young man to-day goes through +Harvard lonely, neglected, unfriended, if any girl +lives solitary and wretched in her life at Wellesley, +it is their own fault. It must be because they +are suspicious, unfriendly, or disagreeable themselves. +Certainly it is true that in the associations +of college life, more than in any other that the country +can show, what is extraneous, artificial, and temporary +falls away, and the every-day relations of life +and work take on a character that is simple, natural, +genuine. And so it comes about that the fourth gift +of college life is ideals of personal character.</p> +<p>To some people the shaping ideals of what character +should be, often held unconsciously, come from +the books they read; but to the majority they are +given by the persons whom they most admire before +they are twenty years old. The greatest thing any +friend or teacher, either in school or college, can do +for a student is to furnish him with a personal ideal. +The college professors who transformed me through +my acquaintance with them—ah, they were few, +and I am sure I did not have a dozen conversations +with them outside their classrooms—gave me, each +in his different way, an ideal of character, of conduct, +of the scholar, the leader, of which they and I were +totally unconscious at the time. For many years I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_377' name='page_377'></a>377</span> +have known that my study with them, no matter +whether of philosophy or of Greek, of mathematics +or history or English, enlarged my notions of life, +uplifted my standards of culture, and so inspired me +with new possibilities of usefulness and of happiness. +Not the facts and theories that I learned so much as +the men who taught me, gave this inspiration. The +community at large is right in saying that it wants the +personal influence of professors on students, but it is +wholly wrong in assuming that this precious influence +comes from frequent meetings or talks on miscellaneous +subjects. There is quite as likely to be a quickening +force in the somewhat remote and mysterious +power of the teacher who devotes himself to amassing +treasures of scholarship, or to patiently working +out the best methods of teaching; who standing +somewhat apart, still remains an ideal of the Christian +scholar, the just, the courteous man or woman. +To come under the influence of one such teacher is +enough to make college life worth while. A young +man who came to Harvard with eighty cents in his +pocket, and worked his way through, never a high +scholar, and now in a business which looks very +commonplace, told me the other day that he would +not care to be alive if he had not gone to college. +His face flushed as he explained how different his +days would have been if he had not known two of +his professors. “Do you use your college studies +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_378' name='page_378'></a>378</span> +in your business?” I asked. “Oh, no!” he answered. +“But I am another man in doing the business; +and when the day’s work is done I live another +life because of my college experiences. The business +and I are both the better for it every day.” How +many a young girl has had her whole horizon extended +by the changed ideals she gained in college! +Yet this is largely because the associations and studies +there are likely to give her permanent interests—the +fifth and perhaps the greatest gift of college life +of which I shall speak.</p> +<p>The old fairy story which charmed us in childhood +ended with “And they were married and lived +happy ever after.” It conducted to the altar, having +brought the happy pair through innumerable +difficulties, and left us with the contented sense that +all the mistakes and problems would now vanish and +life be one long day of unclouded bliss. I have seen +devoted and intelligent mothers arrange their young +daughters’ education and companionships precisely +on this basis. They planned as if these pretty and +charming girls were going to live only twenty or +twenty-five years at the utmost, and had consequently +no need of the wealthy interests that should round +out the fullgrown woman’s stature, making her +younger in feeling at forty than at twenty, and more +lovely and admired at eighty than at either.</p> +<p>Emerson in writing of beauty declares that “the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_379' name='page_379'></a>379</span> +secret of ugliness consists not in irregular outline, +but in being uninteresting. We love any forms, however +ugly, from which great qualities shine. If command, +eloquence, art, or invention exists in the most +deformed person, all the accidents that usually displease, +please, and raise esteem and wonder higher. +Beauty without grace is the head without the body. +Beauty without expression tires.” Of course such +considerations can hardly come with full force to +the young girl herself, who feels aged at eighteen, +and imagines that the troubles and problems of life +and thought are hers already. “Oh, tell me to-night,” +cried a college freshman once to her president, +“which is the right side and which is the wrong side +of this Andover question about eschatology?” The +young girl is impatient of open questions, and irritated +at her inability to answer them. Neither can +she believe that the first headlong zest with which she +throws herself into society, athletics, into everything +which comes in her way, can ever fail. But her elders +know, looking on, that our American girl, the comrade +of her parents and of her brothers and their +friends, brought up from babyhood in the eager talk +of politics and society, of religious belief, of public +action, of social responsibility—that this typical +girl, with her quick sympathies, her clear head, her +warm heart, her outreaching hands, will not permanently +be satisfied or self-respecting, though she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_380' name='page_380'></a>380</span> +have the prettiest dresses and hats in town, or the +most charming of dinners, dances, and teas. Unless +there comes to her, and comes early, the one chief +happiness of life,—a marriage of comradeship,—she +must face for herself the question, “What shall I +do with my life?”</p> +<p>I recall a superb girl of twenty as I overtook her +one winter morning hurrying along Commonwealth +Avenue. She spoke of a brilliant party at a friend’s +the previous evening. “But, oh!” she cried, throwing +up her hands in a kind of hopeless impatience, +“tell me what to do. My dancing days are over!” +I laughed at her, “Have you sprained your ankle?” +But I saw I had made a mistake when she added, +“It is no laughing matter. I have been out three +years. I have not done what they expected of me,” +with a flush and a shrug, “and there is a crowd of +nice girls coming on this winter; and anyway, I am +so tired of going to teas and ball-games and assemblies! +I don’t care the least in the world for foreign +missions, and,” with a stamp, “I am not going slumming +among the Italians. I have too much respect +for the Italians. And what shall I do with the rest of +my life?” That was a frank statement of what any +girl of brains or conscience feels, with more or less +bitter distinctness, unless she marries early, or has +some pressing work for which she is well trained.</p> +<p>Yet even if that which is the profession of woman +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_381' name='page_381'></a>381</span> +<i>par excellence</i> be hers, how can she be perennially +so interesting a companion to her husband and children +as if she had keen personal tastes, long her own, +and growing with her growth? Indeed, in that respect +the condition of men is almost the same as that of +women. It would be quite the same were it not for the +fact that a man’s business or profession is generally +in itself a means of growth, of education, of dignity. +He leans his life against it. He builds his home in the +shadow of it. It binds his days together in a kind of +natural piety, and makes him advance in strength +and nobility as he “fulfils the common round, the +daily task.” And that is the reason why men in the +past, if they have been honorable men, have grown +old better than women. Men usually retain their +ability longer, their mental alertness and hospitality. +They add fine quality to fine quality, passing from +strength to strength and preserving in old age whatever +has been best in youth. It was a sudden recognition +of this fact which made a young friend of +mine say last winter, “I am not going to parties any +more; the men best worth talking with are too old to +dance.”</p> +<p>Even with the help of a permanent business or +profession, however, the most interesting men I know +are those who have an avocation as well as a vocation. +I mean a taste or work quite apart from the +business of life. This revives, inspires, and cultivates +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_382' name='page_382'></a>382</span> +them perpetually. It matters little what it is, if only +it is real and personal, is large enough to last, and +possesses the power of growth. A young sea-captain +from a New England village on a long and lonely +voyage falls upon a copy of Shelley. Appeal is made +to his fine but untrained mind, and the book of +the boy poet becomes the seaman’s university. The +wide world of poetry and of the other fine arts is +opened, and the Shelleyian specialist becomes a cultivated, +original, and charming man. A busy merchant +loves flowers, and in all his free hours studies +them. Each new spring adds knowledge to his knowledge, +and his friends continually bring him their +strange discoveries. With growing wealth he cultivates +rare and beautiful plants, and shares them with +his fortunate acquaintances. Happy the companion +invited to a walk or a drive with such observant eyes, +such vivid talk! Because of this cheerful interest in +flowers, and this ingenious skill in dealing with them, +the man himself is interesting. All his powers are +alert, and his judgment is valued in public life and in +private business. Or is it more exact to say that because +he is the kind of man who would insist upon +having such interests outside his daily work, he is +still fresh and young and capable of growth at an +age when many other men are dull and old and certain +that the time of decay is at hand?</p> +<p>There are two reasons why women need to cultivate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_383' name='page_383'></a>383</span> +these large and abiding interests even more +persistently than men. In the first place, they have +more leisure. They are indeed the only leisured class +in the country, the only large body of persons who +are not called upon to win their daily bread in direct, +wage-earning ways. As yet, fortunately, few men +among us have so little self-respect as to idle about +our streets and drawing-rooms because their fathers +are rich enough to support them. We are not without +our unemployed poor; but roving tramps and +idle clubmen are after all not of large consequence. +Our serious non-producing classes are chiefly women. +It is the regular ambition of the chivalrous +American to make all the women who depend on him +so comfortable that they need do nothing for themselves. +Machinery has taken nearly all the former +occupations of women out of the home into the shop +and factory. Widespread wealth and comfort, and +the inherited theory that it is not well for the woman +to earn money so long as father or brothers can support +her, have brought about a condition of things in +which there is social danger, unless with the larger +leisure are given high and enduring interests. To +health especially there is great danger, for nothing +breaks down a woman’s health like idleness and its +resulting ennui. More people, I am sure, are broken +down nervously because they are bored, than because +they are overworked; and more still go to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_384' name='page_384'></a>384</span> +pieces through fussiness, unwholesome living, worry +over petty details, and the daily disappointments +which result from small and superficial training. +And then, besides the danger to health, there is the +danger to character. I need not dwell on the undermining +influence which men also feel when occupation +is taken away and no absorbing private interest +fills the vacancy. The vices of luxurious city life +are perhaps hardly more destructive to character +than is the slow deterioration of barren country life. +Though the conditions in the two cases are exactly +opposite, the trouble is often the same,—absence +of noble interests. In the city restless idleness organizes +amusement; in the country deadly dulness succeeds +daily toil.</p> +<p>But there is a second reason why a girl should acquire +for herself strong and worthy interests. The +regular occupations of women in their homes are generally +disconnected and of little educational value, at +least as those homes are at present conducted. Given +the best will in the world, the daily doing of household +details becomes a wearisome monotony if the +mere performance of them is all. To make drudgery +divine a woman must have a brain to plan and +eyes to see how to “sweep a room as to God’s laws.” +Imagination and knowledge should be the hourly +companions of her who would make a fine art of +each detail in kitchen and nursery. Too long has the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_385' name='page_385'></a>385</span> +pin been the appropriate symbol of the average woman’s +life—the pin, which only temporarily holds together +things which may or may not have any organic +connection with one another. While undoubtedly +most women must spend the larger part of life in this +modest pin-work, holding together the little things of +home and school and society and church, it is also +true, that cohesive work itself cannot be done well, +even in humble circumstances, except by the refined, +the trained, the growing woman. The smallest +village, the plainest home, give ample space for the +resources of the trained college woman. And the reason +why such homes and such villages are so often +barren of grace and variety is just because these fine +qualities have not ruled them. The higher graces +of civilization halt among us; dainty and finished +ways of living give place to common ways, while +vulgar tastes, slatternly habits, clouds and despondency +reign in the house. Little children under five +years of age die in needless thousands because of +the dull, unimaginative women on whom they depend. +Such women have been satisfied with just +getting along, instead of packing everything they do +with brains, instead of studying the best possible way +of doing everything small or large; for there is always +a best way, whether of setting a table, of trimming +a hat, or teaching a child to read. And this +taste for perfection can be cultivated; indeed, it must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_386' name='page_386'></a>386</span> +be cultivated, if our standards of living are to be +raised. There is now scientific knowledge enough, +there is money enough, to prevent the vast majority +of the evils which afflict our social organism, if mere +knowledge or wealth could avail; but the greater +difficulty is to make intelligence, character, good +taste, unselfishness prevail.</p> +<p>What, then, are the interests which powerfully +appeal to mind and heart, and so are fitted to become +the strengthening companions of a woman’s life? I +shall mention only three, all of them such as are elaborately +fostered by college life. The first is the love +of great literature. I do not mean that use of books +by which a man may get what is called a good education +and so be better qualified for the battle of life, +nor do I mention books in their character as reservoirs +of knowledge, books which we need for special purposes, +and which are no longer of consequence when +our purpose with them is served. I have in mind the +great books, especially the great poets, books to be +adopted as a resource and a solace. The chief reason +why so many people do not know how to make +comrades of such books is because they have come +to them too late. We have in this country enormous +numbers of readers,—probably a larger number who +read, and who read many hours in the week, than +has ever been known elsewhere in the world. But +what do these millions read besides the newspapers? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_387' name='page_387'></a>387</span> +Possibly a denominational religious weekly and another +journal of fashion or business. Then come the +thousands who read the best magazines, and whatever +else is for the moment popular in novels and +poetry—the last dialect story, the fashionable poem, +the questionable but talked-of novel. Let a violent +attack be made on the decency of a new story, +and instantly, if only it is clever, its author becomes +famous.</p> +<p>But the fashions in reading of a restless race—the +women too idle, the men too heavily worked—I +will not discuss here. Let light literature be devoured +by our populace as his drug is taken by the +opium-eater, and with a similar narcotic effect. We +can only seek out the children, and hope by giving +them from babyhood bits of the noblest literature, to +prepare them for the great opportunities of mature +life. I urge, therefore, reading as a mental stimulus, +as a solace in trouble, a perpetual source of delight; +and I would point out that we must not delay to +make the great friendships that await us on the +library shelves until sickness shuts the door on the +outer world, or death enters the home and silences +the voices that once helped to make these friendships +sweet. If Homer and Shakespeare and Wordsworth +and Browning are to have meaning for us when we +need them most, it will be because they come to us +as old familiar friends whose influences have permeated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_388' name='page_388'></a>388</span> +the glad and busy days before. The last time +I heard James Russell Lowell talk to college girls, +he said,—for he was too ill to say many words,—“I +have only this one message to leave with you. In +all your work in college never lose sight of the reason +why you have come here. It is not that you may get +something by which to earn your bread, but that +every mouthful of bread may be the sweeter to your +taste.”</p> +<p>And this is the power possessed by the mighty +dead,—men of every time and nation, whose voices +death cannot silence, who are waiting even at the poor +man’s elbow, whose illuminating words may be had +for the price of a day’s work in the kitchen or the +street, for lack of love of whom many a luxurious +home is a dull and solitary spot, breeding misery and +vice. Now the modern college is especially equipped +to introduce its students to such literature. The library +is at last understood to be the heart of the college. +The modern librarian is not the keeper of books +as was his predecessor, but the distributer of them, +and the guide to their resources, proud when he +increases the use of his treasures. Every language, +ancient or modern, which contains a literature is now +taught in college. Its history is examined, its philology, +its masterpieces, and more than ever is English +literature studied and loved. There is now every +opportunity for the college student to become an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_389' name='page_389'></a>389</span> +expert in the use of his own tongue and pen. What +other men painfully strive for he can enjoy to the full +with comparatively little effort.</p> +<p>But there is a second invigorating interest to which +college training introduces its student. I mean the +study of nature, intimacy with the strange and beautiful +world in which we live. “Nature never did betray +the heart that loved her,” sang her poet and high +priest. When the world has been too much with us, +nothing else is so refreshing to tired eyes and mind +as woods and water, and an intelligent knowledge +of the life within them. For a generation past there +has been a well-nigh universal turning of the population +toward the cities. In 1840 only nine per cent +of our people lived in cities of eight thousand inhabitants +or more. Now more than a third of us are found +in cities. But the electric car, the telephone, the +bicycle, still keep avenues to the country open. Certain +it is that city people feel a growing hunger for +the country, particularly when grass begins to grow. +This is a healthy taste, and must increase the general +knowledge and love of nature. Fortunate are the +little children in those schools whose teachers know +and love the world in which they live. Their young +eyes are early opened to the beauty of birds and trees +and plants. Not only should we expect our girls to +have a feeling for the fine sunset or the wide-reaching +panorama of field and water, but to know something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_390' name='page_390'></a>390</span> +also about the less obvious aspects of nature, +its structure, its methods of work, and the endless +diversity of its parts. No one can have read Matthew +Arnold’s letters to his wife, his mother, and his sister, +without being struck by the immense enjoyment +he took throughout his singularly simple and hard-working +life in flowers and trees and rivers. The +English lake country had given him this happy inheritance, +with everywhere its sound of running +water and its wealth of greenery. There is a close +connection between the marvellous unbroken line of +English song and the passionate love of the Englishman +for a home in the midst of birds, trees, and green +fields.</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>The world is so full of a number of things,</p> +<p>That I think we should all be as happy as kings,</p> +</div></div> +<p>is the opinion of everybody who knows nature as did +Robert Louis Stevenson. And so our college student +may begin to know it. Let her enter the laboratories +and investigate for herself. Let her make her delicate +experiments with the blowpipe or the balance; +let her track mysterious life from one hiding-place +to another; let her “name all the birds without a +gun,” and make intimates of flower and fish and butterfly—and +she is dull indeed if breezy tastes do not +follow her through life, and forbid any of her days +to be empty of intelligent enjoyment. “Keep your +years beautiful; make your own atmosphere,” was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_391' name='page_391'></a>391</span> +the parting advice of my college president, himself +a living illustration of what he said.</p> +<p>But it is a short step from the love of the complex +and engaging world in which we live to the love of +our comrades in it. Accordingly the third precious +interest to be cultivated by the college student is an +interest in people. The scholar to-day is not a being +who dwells apart in his cloister, the monk’s successor; +he is a leader of the thoughts and conduct of +men. So the new subjects which stand beside the +classics and mathematics of mediæval culture are +history, economics, ethics, and sociology. Although +these subjects are as yet merely in the making, thousands +of students are flocking to their investigation, +and are going out to try their tentative knowledge +in College Settlements and City Missions and Children’s +Aid Societies. The best instincts of generous +youth are becoming enlisted in these living themes. +And why should our daughters remain aloof from +the most absorbing work of modern city life, work +quite as fascinating to young women as to young +men? During many years of listening to college sermons +and public lectures in Wellesley, I always +noticed a quickened attention in the audience whenever +the discussion touched politics or theology. +These are, after all, the permanent and peremptory +interests, and they should be given their full place +in a healthy and vigorous life.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_392' name='page_392'></a>392</span></div> +<p>But if that life includes a love of books, of nature, +of people, it will naturally turn to enlarged conceptions +of religion—my sixth and last gift of college +life. In his first sermon as Master of Balliol College, +Dr. Jowett spoke of the college, “First as a place of +education, secondly as a place of society, thirdly as +a place of religion.” He observed that “men of very +great ability often fail in life because they are unable +to play their part with effect. They are shy, awkward, +self-conscious, deficient in manners, faults +which are as ruinous as vices.” The supreme end of +college training, he said, “is usefulness in after life.” +Similarly, when the city of Cambridge celebrated in +Harvard’s Memorial Hall the life and death of the +gallant young ex-Governor of Massachusetts, William +E. Russell, men did well to hang above his portrait +some wise words he had lately said, “Never +forget the everlasting difference between making a +living and making a life.” That he himself never +forgot; and it was well to remind citizens and students +of it, as they stood there facing too the ancient words +all Harvard men face when they take their college +degrees and go out into the world, “They that be +wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, +and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars +for ever and ever.” Good words these to go out from +college with. The girls of Wellesley gather every +morning at chapel to bow their heads together for a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_393' name='page_393'></a>393</span> +moment before they scatter among the libraries and +lecture rooms and begin the experiments of the new +day. And always their college motto meets the eyes +that are raised to its penetrating message, “Not to +be ministered unto, but to minister.” How many a +young heart has loyally responded, “And to give life +a ransom for many.” That is the “Wellesley spirit”; +and the same sweet spirit of devout service has gone +forth from all our college halls. In any of them one +may catch the echo of Whittier’s noble psalm,—</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>Our Lord and Master of us all!</p> +<p class='indent4'>Whate’er our name or sign,</p> +<p>We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call,</p> +<p class='indent4'>We test our lives by Thine.</p> +</div></div> +<p>That is the supreme test of life,—its consecrated +serviceableness. The Master of Balliol was right; +the brave men and women who founded our schools +and colleges were not wrong. “For Christ and the +Church” universities were set up in the wilderness +of New England; for the large service of the state +they have been founded and maintained at public +cost in every section of the country where men have +settled, from the Alleghanies across the prairies and +Rocky Mountains down to the Golden Gate. Founded +primarily as seats of learning, their teachers have +been not only scientists and linguists, philosophers +and historians, but men and women of holy purposes, +sound patriotism, courageous convictions, refined and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_394' name='page_394'></a>394</span> +noble tastes. Set as these teachers have been upon +a hill, their light has at no period of our country’s +history been hid. They have formed a large factor +in our civilization, and in their own beautiful characters +have continually shown us how to combine +religion and life, the ideal and practical, the human +and the divine.</p> +<p>Such are some of the larger influences to be had +from college life. It is true all the good gifts I have +named may be secured without the aid of the college. +We all know young men and women who have had +no college training, who are as cultivated, rational, +resourceful, and happy as any people we know, who +excel in every one of these particulars the college +graduates about them. I believe they often bitterly +regret the lack of a college education. And we see +young men and women going through college deaf +and blind to their great chances there, and afterwards +curiously careless and wasteful of the best +things in life. While all this is true, it is true too that +to the open-minded and ambitious boy or girl of +moderate health, ability, self-control, and studiousness, +a college course offers the most attractive, easy, +and probable way of securing happiness and health, +good friends and high ideals, permanent interests of +a noble kind, and large capacity for usefulness in the +world. It has been well said that the ability to see +great things large and little things small is the final +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_395' name='page_395'></a>395</span> +test of education. The foes of life, especially of women’s +lives, are caprice, wearisome incapacity, and +petty judgments. From these oppressive foes we +long to escape to the rule of right reason, where all +things are possible, and life becomes a glory instead +of a grind. No college, with the best teachers and +collections in the world, can by its own power impart +all this to any woman. But if one has set her face in +that direction, where else can she find so many hands +reached out to help, so many encouraging voices in +the air, so many favoring influences filling the days +and nights?</p> +<hr /> +<p class='center'>The Riverside Press<br /> +CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS<br /> +U. S. A</p> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 3.22k3 --> +<!-- timestamp: 2011-07-17 17:15:37 -0500 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Teacher, by +George Herbert Palmer and Alice Freeman Palmer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEACHER *** + +***** This file should be named 36774-h.htm or 36774-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/7/7/36774/ + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Jonathan Ingram, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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