-.■■;;■»;,-»>■'■■ :;rfi^: v.'. *-: -. A,^ - ^'j*- 'Vv'vS *,•■■.•■■■■'■ ^'■'■•**^-' ^;# ^.■:'-'^' (: 5feuj f arfe Hatt ^allege of Agriculture At (Slmnell Ininctaitg JIttiata, Sf. $. ffitbracji Cornell University Library LB 1775.W6 Education, The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013108471 VOCATIONS SETTING FORTH THE y/IRJOUS PHASES OF THE MECHANIC ARTS, HOME-MAKING, FARMING AND IVOODCRAFT, BUSI- NESS, THE PROFESSIONS OF LAIV, MINISTRY AND MEDICINE, PUBLIC SERVICE, LITERATURE AND JOURNALISM, TEACHING, MUSIC, PUBLIC ENTERTAINMENT AND THE FINE ARTS .-. IVITH PRACTICAL INTRODUCTIONS BY A CORPS OF ASSOCI- ATE EDITORS WILLIAM DeWITT HYDE, D.D., LL.D. Editor-in-Chief NATHAN HASKELL DOLE, CAROLINE TICKNOR AND ALBERT WALTER TOLMAN, A.M. ASSISTANT EDITORS r£J\r VOL UMES RICHL Y ILL USTRA TED BOSTON HALL AND LOCKE COMPANY PUBLISHERS EDITORIAL BOARD WILLIAM DeWITTHTDE, D.D., LL.D., Editor-in-chief, Author, President Bowdoin Col- lege; Brunswick, Maine. RICHARD COCKBURN MACLAURIir, Sc.D., LL.D., Author, President Massachusetts Institute of Technology; Boston, Massachusetts. MARION HARLAND (Mrs. Mary Virginia Terhune), Author, Lecturer; New York City. LIBERTY H7DE BAILET, A.M., Author, Editor, Director New York State College of Agriculture, Cornell University; Ithaca, New York. ANDREW CARNEGIE, LL.D., Author, Lord Rector St. An- drew's tjniversity; New York City. The HON. MELVILLE WESTON FULLER, LL.D., Chancellor Smithsonian Institute, Member Permanent Court of Ar- bitration at The Hague, Chief Jus- tice of the United States; Wash- ington, Diitrict of Columbia. The HON. JAMES RUDOLPH GARFIELD, LL.D., Former Secretary of the Interior; Mentor, Ohio. MART EMMA WOOLLET, Litt.D., L.H.D., President Mt. Holyoke College; South Hadley, Massachusetts. HBNRY VAN DYKE, D.D., LL.D., Author, Professor of English Lit- erature, Princeton University; Princeton, New Jersey. HORATIO PARKER, Mus. Doc, Composer, Professor of the Theory of Music, Yale University; New Haven, Connecticut. KENTON COX, A.N. A., N.A., Author and Artist; New York City. NATHAN HASKELL DOLE, Author, Lecturer, Editor; Boston, Massachusetts. CAROLINE TICKNOR, Author, Editor; Boston, Massa- chusetts. ALBERT WALTER TOLMAN. A.M. Author; Portland, Maine. LIST OF VOLUMES Volume I. THB MECHANIC ARTS Edited by Richard Cockbuen Maclaukin, Sc.D., LL.D. Volume II.' HOMEMAKING Edited by Marion Harland Volume III. FARM AND FOREST Edited by Libeett Hyde Bailey, A.M. Volume IV. BUSINESS Edited by Andrew Carnegie, LL.D. Volume V. THE professions Edited by Melville Weston Fuller, LL.D. Volume VI. PUBLIC SERVICE Edited by James Rudolph Garfield, LL.D. Volume VII. education Edited by Mary Emma Woolley, LITT.D., L.H.D. Volume VHI. LITERATURE Edited by Henry Van Dyke, D.D., LL.D. Volume IX. MUSIC AND PUBLIC ENTERTAJNIOENT Edited by Horatio Parker, Mus. Doc. Volume X. THE FINE ARTS Edited by Kenyon Cox, A.N.A., N.A. After the painting by chavannes School of Philosophy ("Plato") VOCATIONS, in Ten Volumes William DeWitt Hyde. Editor-in-Chief EDUCATION EDITED BY MARY EMMA WOOLLEY, Litt.D., L.H.D. VOLUME VII :''^J6[ BOSTON HALL AND LOCKE COMPANY PUBLISHERS COFTBiaHT, 1911 By hall & LOCKE COMPANY Boston, U. S. A. @.173S0 Stanbope iprefis F. H. GILSON COUPAHT BOSTON. U.S. A- CONTENTS FAOD List of Colobed Illustrations xi Intbodttction xiii By Mart E. Woollbt, Litt.D., L.H.D., President Mt, Holtoee College. THE TEACHEE Kindebgartening 1 Bt Anna Steese Richardson. The Schoolma'am 8 By Richard Washburn Child. Lucy Snowe's Promotion 15 By Charlotte Bronte. The Personality of the Teacher 23 By Arthoh Christopher Benson, Master of Eton College. The Successful Teacher 39 By Eluer Ellsworth Brown, Ph.D., LL.D., U. S. Commissioner op Education. The Personal Factor in Education 48 By Woodrow Wilson, Litt.D., LL.D., Former President Princeton Univbhsity, Governor op New Jersey. GREAT TEACHERS AND EDUCATIONAL LEADERS Pestalozzi, a Great Educator 59 By the Rev. E. L. Kemp. Dickens as an Educator . 67 By James L. Hughes. Kindergartens ... . . 83 By Charles Dickens. Thomas Arnold as a Teacher . .... 98 By Samuel Eliot. Alcott as a Pioneer Educator . . . 105 By Annie Russell Marble, A.M. Mary Lyon . 117 By Jeannette Marks, M.A., Professor, Mount Holyoke College. Lowell as a Teacher 127 By Barrett Wendell, Phopbssob of English, Harvard University. President Eliot as an Educational Reformer . . . 137 By William DbWitt Hyde, D.D., LL.D., President Bowdoin College. ix X Contents SCHOOL AND COLLEGE FA OB Education by Cokrespondence 151 Bt Russell Doubledat. Ends and Means in a Girls' School 158 By Heloise Edwina Hehset. Summer Camps for Boys 170 Bt Winthrop Tisdale Talbot. The Education of Boys 178 By William Estabrooe Chancellob. A Model City School 190 By Dorothy Canfield. Teaching the Blind 203 By Clarence Hawkes. Teaching the Deaf 213 By John Albert Macy, A.M. American Teaching Around the World 219 By Edqab Allen Forbes. The Vocational Ideal 241 By James Greenleaf Crosswell. A New Definition of the Cultivated Man .... 259 By Charles William Eliot, M.D., LL.D. President Emeeitcs Har- vard University. Why Go to College 264 By Alice Freeman Palmer, Late President Wellesley Colleoe. Going to College 283 By Andrew Sloan Draper, LL.D., Former President University of Illinois. The Value of Routine in Education 292 By Le Baron R. Briggs, Litt.D., LL.D., President Radcliffe College. To Students 300 By Rcdyabd Kipling. The College and the Freshman 304 By William R. Castle, Jb. College Life 327 By William DeWitt Hyde, D.D., LL.D. What is College for 361 By Woodhow Wilson, Litt.D., LL.D. Fraulein Wenckebach 379 By Margarethe Muller, Professor of German, Welleblet College. The Schoolmistress and Her Opportunities .... 388 By William Henry Maxwell, Ph.D., LL.D., StrpERiNTENDBNT or Schools, Greater New York. Supplementary Readings 398 LIST OF COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS School of Philosophy . ... Frontispiece Christ and the Fishbkmbn . . . . Face page 46 The KlNDERGAKTBN . 86 Rugby School . . 102 Girl Reading . . 160 Summer Camp tor Boys 174 The Young Schoolmistress 198 Practical Dressmaking . 246 Class in Engineering ' 286 An Art Criticism . . 334 INTRODUCTION By MARY E. WOOLLEY, Litt. D., L.H.D. Teaching has become the profession not of the few, but of the many, often chosen not because of the pecu- liar fitness of the individual or because of a special liking for it, but simply as a makeshift, a something that will earn a livelihood until a better something turns up. It is not to those who enter upon teaching in this spirit that it is recommended as a vocation. Regarded in this light, it is not a "vocation" at all; it is simply an occupa- tion, more truly menial than street-sweeping or boot- blacking, the task of "pettifoggers," as Dickens calls them, rather than the calling of teachers. Real teaching is neither humdrum nor commonplace; on the contrary, it belongs among the great enterprises which stir the imagination, excite the ambition, and stimu- late the powers. In this strenuous twentieth century the strongest appeal which can come to the earnest man or woman is to invest his life in something that is worth while, that makes a demand upon the best that is within him, that gives the broadest scope for his powers, and has the greatest possibilities. The profession of teaching ful- fills all these conditions. It is not an easy occupation — let no one choose it under that delusion! It calls for the exercise of every human power, and success can be won on no other terms. But it offers infinite variety and infinite possibiUties. The field is so broad that in sub- ject matter alone there is opportunity for the most xiv Introduction diverse tastes and qualifications; child study, physical, industrial, technical, classical, scientific, theological train- ing, all have their place and their attraction. And the human element is not less varied. There can be no monotony in a profession which is concerned, not alone or even chiefly, with things, but with human beings, of varying temperaments, abilities, and possibilities, a human panorama with constantly shifting scenes. The vocation of teaching offers opportunity for abili- ties of a high order. All along the fine, from kindergarten to the university and the professional school, there is a demand for men and women of originality and force, who will bring to educational problems the same degree of intellectual power that is blazing the way in the phys- ical sciences, in discovery and invention. Nor are these problems of the school and college "dry as dust," inter- esting only to the educational faddist. Rather they are very much alive and vital to the best interests of society, since their solution largely determines the development of the individual and his ability to do the world's work. Within the classroom the powers of initiative and originality are quite as much needed. The abihty to take a subject which to the student may seem hope- lessly dry or diflficult and make it live, arousing in him that vivid interest which Herbert Spencer calls "pleas- urable excitement," is an achievement worthy of one's ambition ! Teaching demands also the comprehensive mind, the mind that can master details and not be mastered by them, that can see a subject in the large. The field of knowledge is so broad and so constantly widening its boundaries, that the teacher of limited mental vision fails to see the forest because of the trees. The more elementary the instruction, the more necessary are Introduction xv breadth of vision, mental grasp, and power of selection, for the immature student must have blazed for him the trail which the more advanced can discover for themselves. The promotion of a large enterprise demands the quaU- ties of initiative, comprehension, and insight; if the enter- prise concerns the development of human beings instead of things, it must define insight in terms of sympathy. With all the notable advance in methods and appliances of teaching, equipment and training of the teacher, not forgetting child study, — education, both in the school and in the college, is too often en masse, with neither time nor inclination for such an understanding of the individual student as is absolutely necessary for the best development. Great leaders of men have realized the importance of insight into human nature, and whether actuated by selfish or by unselfish motives have culti- vated that power. Every teacher who would make a success of his calling must lay to heart the truth that "One can not teach at all who does not know his sub- ject; one can not teach well who does not know his students." ^ The investment of one's self in others, which is really what the cultivation of this power of sympathetic in- sight means, pays big dividends. Incidentally, it en- larges and enriches the nature that gives, broadening its interests, extending its horizon, developing its powers. But the chief dividends are found in the other lives. What those dividends are, the teacher never fully knows, and he must be willing both not to know and not to expect them to be paid to him in recognition and appreciation. As Professor Palmer says in his "Ideal Teacher," " one root of success or characteristic which every teacher must possess is a readiness to be forgotten. 1 President Hyde's " The Teacher's Philosophy." xvi Introduction If praise and recognition are dear to him, he may as well stop work." There are few vocations in which personality coimts for as much as in teaching, but it has been so often em- phasized that, like cultiu-e, it is in danger of being con- sidered in a superficial and self-conscious way. As President Wilson wrote of character, personaUty is a "by product." Many qualities which may be cultivated enter into it, but it can not be acquired as the re- sult of deliberate effort. The most manly men, the most womanly women, with all that those terms imply of character and culture and personal charm, are the types needed in the teaching profession. The appeal based on the consciousuBss that this voca- tion offers scope for the best within one, and demands that best, is entirely legitimate. The elation with which a man in perfect physical condition enters a race, under- takes a contest, which means straining every muscle, using every atom of physical energy, may and ought to be felt in undertaking a life work. It is, in itself, the secret of success, for the bm-den that is borne with buoyancy and joy in the effort loses half its weight. The tragedy of many hves is not in the difficulty of the work that is put upon them, but in the fact that their own lack of fitness, or the character of the work itself, makes impossible this keen delight in achievement. Teaching, as a great enterprise, should appeal to the patriot. War, with all its horror, has a bright side, in that men forget self-interest in loyalty and devotion to their coimtry. In times of peace the coimtry needs, no less, this merging of self in the larger interest which we call patriotism, but lacking the inspiration of the emer- gency, men fall back to the lower levels of money-getting and place-seeking. Introduction xvii The changes are rung none too often upon the teacher's opportunity to serve his country. Immigration and the schools come into very close touch. "Future citizens in the making," as one teacher said of the scholars in her East-side schoolroom in New York City, where not a single name or face suggested American ancestry or American traditions, offer abundant opportunity for per- petuating the ideals which underlie the foundation of the national Ufe, for assimilating new and ahen elements into that life. Nor is the patriotic opportunity limited to work with the foreigner; there is quite as much danger that high ideals will be lost among the descendants of the earlier "settlers" as among those of the later "immigrants." Lawlessness, whether it be the lawlessness of rioting strikers or of corporations; selfish individualism, whether that of anarchists or of monopolies; the violation of a public trust, whether on the part of a ward boss or of a United States Senator, — are all one and the same thing. From the grade school on the lower East Side of New York City to the university professorship, there is no vocation which offers a finer platform or a wider oppor- tunity for teaching the righteousness that exalteth a nation. Teaching as a great enterprise should appeal to the lover of humanity. There is great advance in the arts of civiUzation, but not an equally notable advance in civilization itself. That must include the progress of the individual, not only in the comforts and conveniences of life, the opportunities for earning a livelihood and for the acquirement of wealth, but also in the realization of the intellectual and spiritual possibiUties which we call character. To have a part in the world's work is not simply or xviii Introduction chiefly to discover new applications of natural forces, to promote industry, to develop material resources; it is concerned also with the discovery of intellectual and spiritual forces and their application to daily living, with the promotion of earnest purposes and high ideals, with the development of the resources of the mind and of the heart. The teacher has a chance for a great enterprise, not a humdrum commonplace occupation. The really vital things come within his province. Society can exist without great wealth, enlarged industries, invention, dis- covery; it can not long stand without integrity, honor, truth, purity, ideaUsm. And this "highest of all oflaces, that of molder of men," is as independent of grade and class of the pupil as of the subject taught. Its field is found in the kinder- garten and in the university, on the playground and in the professional school. In all classes of society, in all grades of education, there is need of the men and women who, with insight and sympathy, can bring out the best in human nature. ^vy>uXxju^[ Mount Holtoke College, South Hadley, Massachusetts, Aug. 10, 1910. EDUCATION KINDERGARTENING ^ By anna STEESE RICHARDSON |HE girl who must become a wage earner "at once" should not look to kindergarten- ing as her field of school work. It is perhaps ^ the most subtle branch of pedagogics. Its principles must be absorbed slowly. They can not be swallowed at a gulp, as the average American girl tries to acquire her preparation in many fields of money-making. Kindergartening is a philosophy. Its founder, Froe- bel, built his methods upon the philosophy of right living and individuality in child life. The girl who hopes to become a successful kindergartner must first build her own character according to that philosophy. It is not enough to love children, though this love is an important stone in your foundation for the work. You must be versed in the psychology of childhood. You can not "cram" during kindergarten preparation. Neither can you make up deficiencies in your early education. You will require all your physical and mental powers to master the new ideas presented in the training school for kinder- gartners. You may enter a shop as a clerk and tread the pathway to financial success by way of experience and your early mistakes, but you can not correct mistakes in the kindergarten. ' From "The Girl Who Earns Her Own Living." Copyright, New York, 1909, by R. W. Dodge & Company. 1 2 Education A business college may grant you a diploma and send you out to plague future employers because you learned to form the pothooks of stenography before you had thoroughly mastered your spelling book, but you can not enter a training school for kindergartners without pass- ing preliminary examinations which will test severely your qualifications in high-school branches. This introductory preachment is offered because I want to play fair at the beginning. The high-school girl who must make money immediately on graduation is wasting her time in building kindergarten plans and air castles. The woman who has been a home maker and out of the school atmosphere for years can not read a few books on kindergartening, buy a few games and open a kindergarten in a few weeks. But to the girl who is considering the matter serioiisly, who has time and money to take a thorough course in the work, kinder- gartening opens a field of self-support worth cultivating. The ambitious, businesslike kindergartner does not have to remain on salary — she can have a school of her own. First, what are the requirements for admission to a recognized training school for kindergartners? A high-school education or its equivalent at a private institution. Second, what is required of an appUcant for a position in the pubhc kindergartens of large cities? A two-year course at some representative training school for kindergartners. The would-be kindergartner must have a knowledge of music; both instnunental and vocal are desirable. She must have at her finger tips a practical knowledge of botany, art, geography, mathematics and general literatiue. She must be of good character, even-tempered and self-controUed, neat in appearance, amenable to Kindergartening 3 the red tape and the regulations of public-school systems, and she must possess above all things that indescribable gift, the power to attract, often called personal magnetism, and to inspire confidence in children. The hysterical girl will never succeed as a kindergartner. The untidy girl has no place in this wonderful garden of children. The girl who looks beyond the month's work to salary day, and this to the exclusion of everything else, will not last in the kindergarten field. Many girls have written to me that they understand that a college degree is necessary to secure a position in a first-class school. This depends entirely upon your interpretation of the term "first-class." If you mean the public kindergartens (and there are no better fields of effort, no schools that pay better salaries in the long run), then the statement is incorrect. Principals of fashionable private schools demand a college degree from every applicant for a position, and in the pubhc schools, if you desire to rise to the rank of supervisor or teacher in a training school for teachers, the degree is essential. On the other hand, a girl is entirely safe in taking merely her two years of work at a representative training school for kindergartners; and then, after she has established herself successfully as a teacher and has saved funds from her salary, she may take the special college course which will fit her for the post of training- school teacher or supervisor. Now for the girl in a large city who is ambitious to become a kindergartner. Investigate fiirst the possibilities of the public-school system in your own town. There may be attached to your own normal school a kindergarten course. At the training school for teachers in New York City, and in connection with the Girls' Normal School in Philadelphia, 4 Education for instance, there are kindergarten classes. Here a girl may quickly discover whether she is fitted for the work. If there is no kindergarten training school in your town, you can at least secure yoiu- preUminary high-school training there. Do not imagine that you can take a home-study course in the high-school branches, "cram" relentlessly, and then pass your preliminaries. In rare cases a girl might accompUsh this feat, but it is safer to complete your high-school course in the usual way. If the local board of education offers you nothing in kindergarten training, then study the various fields carefully before you decide upon a training school away from home. If possible, select a school which is heavily endowed or connected with some established imiversity or college. The small, private training school holds cer- tain dangers for you. In the first place, its work may not fit you for the examination for positions in the public- school kindergartens, and in the second the small kinder- garten training school needs your money more than does the endowed institution, and its principal may not be entirely honest with you regarding your suitabihty for the work. By this I mean that at certain estabUshed institutions or training schools yoiu* work from the very start is watched very carefully, and if you show that you are eminently unsuited to the work, and the money which you would spend upon your tuition would be wasted, you will be told so frankly, and advised to give it up, and even the fees you have paid in advance will be re- funded to you. On the other hand, a training school which is not en- dowed needs every cent it can secure from pupils, and the principal will often permit a girl to continue the work, knowing that her diploma will not insure her a position, Kindergarten ing 5 and that the first supervisor under whom she works will mark her deficiencies. Many girls from small towns write to me after this fashion: "I have met a lady who runs a kindergarten here. She has a nice little school of her own, and she thinks I would make a fine teacher. She has offered to teach me the work very reasonably. Do you think I could secure a city position after taking such a training?" It would be impossible to advise any girl to take such a course of training without knowing the kindergartner who has offered her the course at reduced rates. She may be a kindergarten enthusiast who has faith in her would-be pupil, sufficient faith to give her the training for practically nothing. Perhaps she wishes to train the girl as her assistant. In either case she will see that her pupil is trained as thoroughly as she was herself. But it is a matter of regret that many such offers are founded on the need of earning extra money; and the girl who accepts them secures only a smattering of kinder- garten methods and never gets to the root of Froebel philosophy. "What will the training at a representative school cost me?" inquire many girls. At one of the endowed institutions in the East, of whose graduates ninety-seven per cent have secured positions, the charges are twenty-five dollars per term, three terms in the year, which means an outlay of seventy-five dollars per year for tuition. As the course runs two years, one hundred and fifty dollars plus a small sum for personal suppHes will cover the actual expenses of tuition. Pupils at this school are furnished with lists of boarding houses where they can secm-e room and board as low as four dollars and fifty cents a week. 6 Education At this rate a girl's living expenses, including laundry, will amount to about three hundred and fifty dollars for two years. A very strong girl can reduce expenses by work- ing in a family night and morning for her board, but it is better to concentrate strength and interest on your training. The average training school has a daily session, except Saturdays and Sundays, from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon, with much field work, visiting kindergartens and teaching or substituting in charity kindergartens. The girl who has no money for her training must simply find some way of earning it. She can become a mother's helper and test her patience with children. Perhaps this experience may ciu-e her of any desire to teach even in a kindergarten. If she lives in a college town she can become a caterer in a small way and pre- pare college "spreads," or have a pretty tea room in her own home where the college girls may drop in for tea, s.weets, and chat every afternoon. She can do fine laim- dry work for college girls, mending, anything which will allow her to lay aside each week a small sxan. toward the expenses of the coveted training. Other girls inquire: "If I do take a course of training, how do I know that I can secxure a position?" By the time you have spent two years in a training school you will know where and how to sectire a position. That is one fruit of the training. Furthermore, promis- ing teachers from good schools are in demand. Authori- ties in the work say that for the next twenty-five years kindergartening wiU be a profitable field, because it will not be overcrowded. "What salaries are paid kindergartners? " ask other girls. In Greater New York the minimum salary paid kinder- Kinder gar tening 7 gartners in the public schools is six hundred dollars. The maximum salary is twelve hundred and forty dollars. Salaries increase with the term of service. Supervisors and teachers for training schools command higher salaries, and the offices often go begging for lack of competent applicants. It is impossible to indicate salaries in private institu- tions, as these vary according to the standing and pros- perity of the school and the experience and capabilities of the appUcant. In addition to private and public schools, free kindergarten associations and private char- ities afford openings. These relieve the congested con- dition in the public schools and aim to help the child who must be clothed and fed as well as taught. The summer vacation schools in large cities offer ambitious teachers opportunities for special work, and a bright girl at a fashionable summer resort can easily form her own vacation classes among juvenile guests, and by working in the morning earn enough to pay her entire summer's expenses at the hotel. Kindergartening is a profession, but mere knowledge of its philosophy, theory, and practice will not make for success. Often the girl who might be described as a born kindergartner is outstripped by a girl who has less ground- ing in the philosophy but a better developed business instinct. Of all branches of pedagogy, probably kinder- gartening offers the surest avenue to economic independ- ence, for it takes less capital to start a kindergarten than a full-fledged private school with many departments. The girl who wants to be her own mistress can become so through kindergartening — if she combines thorough training with good business management. THE SCHOOLMA'AM 1 By RICHARD WASHBURN CHILD WAS thinking," said Bertha Brown, school- ma'am, raising her old head. "It is twenty- two thousand dollars — just a httle over twenty-two, that I have received in salaries in forty-one years. If I had saved it all there would be enough to take care of me very well. But it did not aver- age much more than five hundred dollars a year. There was my mother at first — and an invaUd." Bertha Brown lives up three flights of stairs at Mrs. Hewitt's, upon the first of which the carpet is much worn, upon the last of which, owing to less traffic and less light, almost all the original pile and coloring remain. It is an old house; as you pass the closed doorways one after the other, ascending the narrow passage, boards beneath you complain of the eternal monotony of feet going and coming through the years. Her head, with its fine hair brushed back in straight prim lines, is like the head of a mummy — the head of an Egyptian princess, with yellowed skin so soft, so etched with life, that sallowness cannot hm-t its beauty. And her eyes are old with seeing; they send forth a kindly Ught as ancient as human eyes. "In this city, however — " I suggested. "Not so much more. I am a principal of a grammar school, I would have you know." She smiled. "I taught the sixth grade when I came, — in the same build- ing, — you 've seen it. It was a new building then. We ' By permission of the Author and "Collier's Weekly." 8 The Schoolma'am 9 were very proud of it — a faced brick building with bright yellow and hard pine woodwork within, which has all turned dark and dingy now — a smoky drab color — the color of the floors. "The desks were all spick and span. They 're funny old desks. Once there was some talk of their being con- trary to the then accepted hygienic design. But since then the theory has changed back again — like some of the theories of teaching. So many hands and elbows have rested on those desks ! I think I can remember penknife scratches which have disappeared because the surface of the wood has been so rubbed and polished with the chil- dren's touch. "Those desks seem — each one — to have an individual- ity now. At a distance they are all terribly alike, stand- ing in rows. But sometimes when the scholars have filed out with the afternoon gong and it is dusk and I am tired, I squeeze into one of those seats screwed down to the floor and look with some awe at the top of the desk before me. Once in a while I can remember a child or two who has sat there, but even when I can not I can see the thousand and one little marks that each has made. The marks seem almost inrimortal. I wonder where those that made them have gone. A teacher does not know. She can't know. It is too bad — perhaps. I have taught almost three thousand pupils. They flit back into my memory three or four at a time. I remember a little fat boy who took hold of my hand one day and squeezed it in affection and ran out much embarrassed at what he had done. I wonder if he 's dead. There are enough of them to make a little city. I did my best with them, and they — Is it close in this room?" She arose with the acute agility of a thin old maid, pushed up the window, and drew aside the silk sash cur- 10 Education tains that separated us from the black night and the gUnt of occasional city Ughts. Large moist flakes were still falling; only an occasional flutter of east wind brought up to us the rumble of the city and the smell of the snow; between these whiffs of winter air we could hear the drip- ping of water on the tin roofs. "You Ve taught them at the rate of seven dollars and a half apiece?" I ventured to suggest. "A Uttle more, I think," she corrected me. She had the irritating, formal manner of telling others of their mistakes which characterizes most school teachers. And yet, thought I, one might as well criticize the gravedig- gers for the callouses on their hands. "Don't you suppose they owe you a little more — each one?" " If I did not beUeve it," she answered softly, " I should be sorry that I ever taught. Sometimes I think if it were not for that I should be sorry that I did not become dis- honest — that I did not — " She paused, looking up at me as if she were not sure I would understand her. ' ' Well, for many, many years I have been alone, hving in a Uttle room Uke this, busy all day — day after day — routine. A little room for a home and alone in it aU the evenings? A visitor now and then — but in a social class by myself. A nun without a convent. That is what Miss Patterson used to say : ' A nun without a convent ! ' Surely the salary does not keep up to the drudgery of it. It must be some- thing else, don't you think? It must have been something besides fear." "Because the very fact of keeping at it implies courage?" "In a real, true woman," she replied. "It takes a real woman to be admirably bad. It takes a true woman not to be. All the others have no courage anyway." How she laughed over her epigram, but she had stated it with The Schoolma'am 11 spirit, with a reddening of her dry cheeks, a flash of youth- ful fire in her eye, a tightening of her wrinkled hands. " So I have gone on. After forty years I am still teach- ing, still studying." "Studying?" "Surely studying." She smiled. "When you see a woman as old as I who is still in harness — though that is not a refined phrase, is it? — you may be sure she has studied hard. A teacher must keep up her professional knowledge, just hke a doctor, I suppose. She must stop spelling harbor with a 'u.' She must know a little more biology and psychology and a little less about Bryant's poetry and slanting penmanship. Sometimes she must take up courses in the summer. She must buy books — • books — books." She felt beneath the table cover with her hand, then held up a sizable green cloth-bound volume. If memory serves well, it was a translation from a German educator — a treatise on the correlation of ordinary teaching and training in the manual arts. "A dollar and a half," she said dryly. "It takes me place of a new shirt waist. But if you do not keep up you surely can not last." Her voice lost its vivacity. She spoke solemnly. "You can not nm the fidl dis- tance — you can not finish the journey. You have not made it lifelong. You have not pressed onward to the end. "I have taught a long time," she went on after a minute, "but never better than now. I am proud of that. I shall not go much farther, I think. I have not been very well this winter. School teachers — hke trained niu-ses — are not good risks. The life-insurance men say so, I believe. I think I am the oldest schoolma'am in the city. So I have had as many days of illness on my feet as any of 12 Education them — as many headaches — and lasted as long as any one." She seemed to have been talking to herself; now she opened the book, idly glancing over the running leaves. I could see the reflection of her hands in the glass-covered engraving of an old-fashioned-looking Claude Lorraine. They appeared far down the deep perspective of the pic- ture between the castles and the arching elms. Evidently she followed my gaze, for she turned toward the engraving herself and remarked that it used to hang in the library of her home, that her father had bought it from a sea captain to give to her mother on a particular wedding anniversary. Suddenly she said with a Uttle laugh that she had not talked about herself so much for years. "A teacher — a woman school teacher should fear that subject above all others. Her greatest danger is herself. She must fear in- trospection more than a school board of women members. Not because she has the same temptation to consider her- self that a rich and idle woman has. She 's busy in the day, of course, but in the evenings — ! and particularly in those minutes when she is trying to think herself to sleep at night. "I have given you a bad impression of school teaching, I 'm afraid," she said suddenly. "But I have not forgot- ten that it has given me a Uving — the necessities and some comforts." "And that is all?" "O no!" she exclaimed. "After all, there is some- thiQg of a reward in mere service. One may lose one's dreams about one's youthful ideals. But not the ideals themselves, I think. They keep right on unseen and silent. They must have been following me day in and day out. I saw them when I was a young girl full of vitaUty and hope. And I 've begun to see them again more clearly The Schoolma'am 13 than ever." Her eyes gazed calmly straight into mine. "I wish I could go on and on and on! I see the ideals again, and I 'm glad I have done something more than earn my salary." " You 've never been tempted to turn away from it ? " "Of course I have. I could have started a private school once in partnership with a widow without much charm but with sufficient money. Her plan was to estab- lish a fashionable school for Western girls. The entire scheme depended on charging one thousand dollars a year. It would undoubtedly have proved successful simply be- cause of the belief of newly rich families that expensive things are the best. 'Let us give the girls a good time and a Uttle real culture/ said this widow. 'If they enjoy themselves, they will report favorably to their parents and their friends, and the earmarks of culture will be satisfying to every one.' She was a clever woman. But I could not very well do it. I 've heard since that the school clears twelve thousand a year. "It would have settled the problem of money," she repeated, emphasizing the last word. "Yes, I should not have been forced to wonder what would happen to me when I had to stop. A year or two ago I used to wake up in the morning and stare at the ceiling, trying to picture the future. For it takes some money even to get into an old ladies' home." "An old ladies' home?" She smiled. "Why not? I have no relatives. After all, it will be a period of reflection — of waiting. I used to think I would go to some such place and try to make my influence felt to stimulate the others. But I remem- bered the whitie-haired Une that used to sit on the piazza at the home in Lynndale. They did not look unhappy. They said nothing, did nothing. They sat and gazed Uke 14 Education Oriental priests. Why should I disturb them? I could be no braver — no more gentle than they. They have lived life out. "I will sit there with them cheerfully. I will think about the children. They will flit back into my memory three and four at a time. I shall wonder where they are." "And there are no pensions for school teachers?" I asked without thinking. "Only for soldiers," she answered. "I wonder which do the most for the state?" I said. She shook her head to show that she did not know. At her age all problems were still unsolved. But the pile of copy books was still before her on the table. She took one of them down and looked into it absent-mindedly. "Good night," said I, picking up my hat. "Good night," she said, smiling up out of the circle of the lamp's glow. She rose to her feet with her quick move- ment. " You will come again? " I nodded: the door closed softly after me. The warm smell of respectable hallways came up the stairs as some one below opened the front door, and a strange tiu-n of fancy suggested that a great press of people was coming up to her door — the grown-up children that she had once taught. LUCY SNOWE'S PROMOTION ^ By charlotte BRONTE WAS one day sitting upstairs, as usual, hearing the children their English lessons, and at the same time turning a silk dress for Madame, when she came sauntering into the room with that absorbed air and brow of hard thought she sometimes wore, and which made her look so little genial. Dropping into a seat opposite mine, she remained some minutes silent. D^sir^e, the eldest girl, was reading to me some little essay of Mrs. Bar- bauld's, and I was making her translate currently from English to French as she proceeded, by way of ascer- taining that she comprehended what she read: Madame listened. Presently, without preface or prelude, she said, almost in the tone of one making an accusation, "Meess, in England you were a governess?" "No, Madame," said I, smiling, "you are mistaken." "Is this your first essay at teaching — this attempt with my children?" I assured her it was. Again she became silent; but looking up, as I took a pin from the cushion, I found myself an object of study: she held me under her eye; she seemed turning me round in her thoughts — measur- ing my fitness for a purpose, weighing my value in a plan. Madame had, ere this, scrutinized all I had, and I believe she esteemed herself cognizant of much that I was; but from that day, for the space of about a fort- ' From " Villette." 15 16 Education night, she tried me by new tests. She listened at the nursery door when I was shut in with the children; she followed me at a cautious distance when I walked out with them, steahng within earshot whenever the trees of park or boulevard afforded a sufficient screen: a strict preUminary process having thus been observed, she made a move forward. One morning, coming on me abruptly, and with the semblance of hmry, she said she found herself placed in a Uttle dilemma. Mr. Wilson, the EngUsh master, had failed to come at his hour; she feared he was ill; the pupils were waiting in class; there was no one to give a lesson; should I, for once, object to giving a short dictation exercise, just that the pupils might not have it to say they had missed their EngUsh lesson? "In class, Madame?" I asked. "Yes, in class: in the second division." "Where there are sixty pupils," said I; for I knew the number, and with my usual base habit of cowardice, I shrank into my sloth hke a snail into its shell, and alleged incapacity and impracticability as a pretext to escape action. If left to myself, I should infallibly have let this chance slip. Inadventurous, imstirred by impulses of practical ambition, I was capable of sitting twenty years teachiug infants the hornbook, turning silk dresses, and making children's frocks. Not that true content- ment dignified this infatuated resignation; my work had neither charm for my taste, nor hold on my interest; but it seemed to me a great thing to be without heavy anxiety, and reheved from intimate trial: the negation of severe suffering was the nearest approach to happi- ness I expected to know. Besides, I seemed to hold two lives — the life of thought and that of reality; and, provided the former was nourished with a sufficiency Lucy Snowe's Promotion 17 of the strange necromantic joys of fancy, the privileges of the latter might remain limited to daily bread, hourly work, and a roof of shelter. "Come," said Madame, as I stooped more busily than ever over the cutting out of a child's pinafore, "leave that work." "But Fifine wants it, Madame." "Fifine must want it, then, for I want you." And as Madame Beck did really want and was resolved to have me — as she had long been dissatisfied with the EngUsh master, with his shortcomings in punctuaUty and his careless method of tuition — as, too, she did not lack resolution and practical activity, whether I lacked them or not — she, without more ado, made me rehn- quish thimble and needle; my hand was taken into hers, and I was conducted downstairs. When we reached the carre, a large square hall between the dwelling house and the pensionnat, she paused, dropped my hand, faced, and scrutinized me. I was flushed, and tremulous from head to foot: tell it not in Gath, I believe I was crying. In fact, the difficulties before me were far from being wholly imaginary; some of them were real enough; and not the least substantial lay in my want of mastery over the medimn through which I should be obliged to teach. I had, indeed, studied French closely since my arrival in Villette; learning its practice by day, and its theory in every leisure moment at night to as late an hour as the rule of the house would allow candlehght; but I was far from yet being able to trust my powers of correct oral expression. "Dites done," said Madame sternly, "vous sentez- vous r^ellement trop faible?" I might have said "Yes," and gone back to nursery obscurity, and there, perhaps, moldered for the rest 18 Education of my life; but looking up at Madame, I saw in her countenance a something that made me think twice ere I decided. At that instant she did not wear a woman's aspect, but rather a man's. Power of a particular kind strongly limned itself in all her traits, and that power was not my kind of power: neither sympathy, nor con- geniality, nor submission, were the emotions it awakened. I stood — not soothed, nor won, nor overwhelmed. It seemed as if a challenge of strength between opposing gifts was given, and I suddenly felt all the dishonor of my diffidence — all the pusillanimity of my slackness to aspire. "Will you," she said, "go backward or forward?" indi- cating with her hand, first, the small door of coinmunica- tion with the dwelling house, and then the great double portals of the classes or schoolrooms. "En avant," I said. "But," pursued she, cooUng as I warmed, and continu- ing the hard look, from very antipathy to which I drew strength and determination, "can you face the classes, or are you overexcited?" She sneered slightly in saying this: nervous excitability was not much to Madame's taste. "I am no more excited than this stone," I said, tap- ping the flag with my toe: "or than you," I added, return- ing her look. "Bon! But let me tell you these are not quiet, deco- rous English girls you are going to encounter. Ce sont des Labassecouriennes, rondes, franches, brusques, et tant soit peu rebelles." I said: "I know; and I know, too, that though I have studied French hard since I came here, yet I still speak it with far too much hesitation — too httle accuracy to be able to command their respect : I shall make blunders Lucy Snowe's Promotion 19 that will lay me open to the scorn of the most ignorant. Still I mean to give the lesson." "They always throw over timid teachers," said she. "I know that too, Madame; I have heard how they rebelled against and persecuted Miss Turner" — a poor friendless English teacher, whom Madame had employed, and hghtly discarded; and to whose piteous history I was no stranger. "C'est vrai," said she, coolly. "Miss Turner had no more command over them than a servant from the kitchen would have had. She was weak and wavering; she had neither tact nor intelligence, decision nor dignity. Miss Turner would not do for these girls at all." I made no reply, but advanced to the closed school- room door. "You will not expect aid from me, or from any one," said Madame. "That would at once set you down as incompetent for your office." I opened the door, let her pass with courtesy, and followed her. There were three schoolrooms, all large. That dedicated to the second division, where I was to figure, was considerably the largest, and accommodated an assemblage more numerous, more turbulent, and infi- nitely more unmanageable than the other two. In after days, when I knew the ground better, I used to think sometimes (if such a comparison may be permitted) that the quiet, polished, tame first division was to the robust, riotous, demonstrative second division what the English House of Lords is to the House of Commons. The first glance informed me that many of the pupils were more than girls — quite young women; I knew that some of them were of noble family (as nobility goes in Labassecour), and I was well convinced that not one amongst them was ignorant of my position in Madame's 20 Education household. As I mounted the estrade (a low platform, raised a step above the flooring), where stood the teacher's chair and desk, I beheld opposite to me a row of eyes and brows that threatened stormy weather — eyes full of an insolent Ught, and brows hard and unblushing as marble. The continental "female" is quite a different being to the insular "female" of the same age and class: I never saw such eyes and brows in England. Madame Beck introduced me in one cool phrase, sailed from the room, and left me alone in my glory. I shall never forget that first lesson, nor aU the under- ciuTent of life and character it opened up to me. Then first did I begin rightly to see the wide difference that lies between the novehst's and poet's ideal "jeime fille" and the said "jeime fiUe" as she really is. It seems that three titled belles in the first row had sat down predetermined that a bonne d'enfants should not give them lessons ta English. They knew they had succeeded ia expelling obnoxious teachers before now; they knew that Madame would at any time throw over- board a professem- or mattresse who became unpopular with the school — that she never assisted a weak official to retain his place — that if he had not strength to fight, or tact to win his way, down he went: looking at "Miss Snowe, " they promised themselves an easy victory. Mesdemoiselles Blanche, Virginie, and AngeUque opened the campaign by a series of titterings and whisperings; these soon swelled into murmurs and short laughs, which the remoter benches caught up and echoed more loudly. This growing revolt of sixty against one soon became op- pressive enough, my command of French being so limited, and exercised under such cruel constraint. Could I but have spoken in my own tongue, I felt as if I might have gained a hearing; for, in the first place, Lucy Snowe's Promotion 21 though I knew I looked a poor creatm-e, and in many respects actually was so, yet nature had given me a voice that could make itself heard, if lifted in excitement or deepened by emotion. In the second place, while I had no flow, only a hesitating trickle of language in ordinary circimistances, yet, under stimulus such as was now rife through the mutinous mass, I could, in Eng- hsh, have roUed out readily phrases stigmatizing their proceedings as such proceedings deserved to be stigma- tized; and then with some sarcasm, flavored with con- temptuous bitterness for the ringleaders, and relieved with easy banter for the weaker but less knavish followers, it seemed to me that one might possibly get command over this wild herd, and bring them into training at least. All I could now do was to walk up to Blanche, — Made- moiselle de Melcy, a young baronne, — the eldest, tallest, handsomest, and most vicious, stand before her desk, take from under her hand her exercise book, remount the estrade, dehberately read the composition, which I found very stupid, and, as dehberately, and in the face of the whole school, tear the blotted page in two. This action availed to draw attention and check noise. One girl alone, quite in the background, persevered in the riot with undiminished energy. I looked at her attentively. She had a pale face, hair like night, broad strong eyebrows, decided features, and a dark, mutinous, sinister eye: I noted that she sat close by a little door, which door, I was well aware, opened into a small closet where books were kept. She was standing up for the purpose of conducting her clamor with freer energies. I measured her stature and calculated her strength. She seemed both tall and wiry; but, so the conflict were brief and the attack unexpected, I thought I might manage her. 22 Education Advancing up the room, looking as cool and careless as I possibly could, in short, ayant I'air de rien, I shghtly pushed the door, and found it was ajar. In an instant, and with sharpness, I had turned on her. In another instant she occupied the closet, the door was shut, and the key in my pocket. It so happened that this girl, Dolores by name, and a Catalonian by race, was the sort of character at once dreaded and hated by all her associates; the act of sum- mary justice above noted proved popular: there was not one present but, in her heart, liked to see it done. They were stilled for a moment; then a smile — not a laugh — passed from desk to desk: then — when I gravely and tranquilly returned to the estrade, courteously requested silence, and commenced a dictation as if nothing at all had happened — the pens traveled peacefully over the pages, and the remainder of the lesson passed in order and industry. "C'est bien," said Madame Beck, when I came out of class, hot and a little exhausted. "Ca ira." She had been hstening and peeping through a spy hole the whole time. From that day I ceased to be nursery governess, and became English teacher. Madame raised my salary; but she got thrice the work out of me she had extracted from Mr. Wilson, at half the expense. THE PERSONALITY OF THE TEACHER By ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON LL work that men do in the world can be regarded as the product of an art or a craft, and the best work is that which contains the ^ right proportion of both. I suppose that the difference between an art and a craft is that an art is a spontaneous outburst of faculty, while a craft is a species of technical skill developed by a definite demand. It is, of course, impossible nowadays, in tlie face of the strain created by a prodigious demand for education, to demand that all teaching should be of an artistic kind. But we lose inspiration, we teachers, if we begin to think of teaching as a craft rather than as an art. The best teaching is, or can be, one of the most artistic things in the world — a mixture of the art of statement, the art of imagination, and the dramatic art; and such teaching as this, which is the fine flower of the process, can never be created by a demand. And thus I suppose that it is more practical under present conditions to aim first at producing the best kind of craftsmanship, as long as we do not rest contentedly in craftsmanship. A factor, then, of paramount importance in education is the personality of the teacher — the influence, the atmosphere, call it what you will, which is so difficult to analyze or describe but the presence or absence of which is so instantaneously felt. There was a famous Professor of Geology in .old days at Cambridge, Adam Sedgwick. I do not imagine that he was a very scientific 23 24 Education geologist; but I remember hearing a great classical scholar and theblogian describe how he attended a lec- ture of Sedgwick's in his imdergraduate days. "I came away," he said, "firmly convinced that I had mistaken my real bent up to that moment, and that geology was the one thing worth studying." That is the result of personality; it is partly the same as enthusiasm, no doubt, but by no means conterminous, for I have before now heard an enthusiast hold forth on his subject and send his hearers away with the deter- mination that, whatever else they studied, they must endeavor to be preserved from any further acquaintance with that particular branch of hirnian knowledge. En- thusiasm may have an absolutely deterrent effect if it is not accompanied by a certain persuasiveness — the same quality which is so essential, as we know, in a book. One may read a book full of not impossible events, and close it, feeling that it has succeeded in being "at once wild and dull"; on the other hand, we may read a book in which the incidents related may be grotesquely and absurdly impossible, and yet one finds oneself accept- ing the situation unquestioningly, and, however improb- able it may appear to subsequent reflection that the event recorded took place, yet, while one is imder the spell, one has no desire even to question the actuaUty of the narration. So it is with personality in teaching. It carries the learner off his feet; it makes him feel that the subject which is being handled is beautiful and enviable; it kindles the wish to know; it opens up dim and attractive corridors of the mind, mysterious and lovely vistas; it gives wings to the imagination, revealing a new and desir- able region of thought. Like the musician in Abt Vogler, such a teacher has power "out of three soimds to frame not a fourth sound but a star. " The Personality of the Teacher 25 I am not romancing. I have in my mind a teacher under whom I was once fortunate enough to sit. I should like to be able to say that the basis of his character was strenuousness and high enthusiasm; but I do not think he was a serious man. He had fancy, and wit, and com-tesy, and the power of command, and a good deal of miscellaneous knowledge, which gave him the happiest knack of illustration. The result was for his pupils a high degree both of enjoyment and stimulus. And, on the other hand, if I must confess it, the most ineffective teacher I ever remember was a man of incred- ible diligence and high-mindedness. But he was also a bore; he possessed in an almost unique degree the power of alienating the attention; he carried a dullness into all he taught; and the world of knowledge as he exhibited it was Uke a landscape imder a heavy fall of snow, all sounds dulled, all outlines merged. Of course, these are extreme instances, but they illus- trate my main point, that charm and suggestiveness play a larger part in the work of a teacher than is per- haps commonly admitted. If one could depend upon a desire for knowledge and a mature enthusiasm being present in the mind of the taught, then the man of serious- ness and profound acquirements is the better teacher; but, as a general rule, children are unstable and restless, and have to be wooed very tenderly along the upward path; and thus a man with sympathy and understanding, who has still got something of the child about him, whose temperament is birdUke and inquisitive, whose imagination is active, will often be more effective as a teacher than the man of matured mind and sohd acquire- ments, who has forgotten, if he ever knew, how fitful a thing the early appetite for knowledge often is. Of course, in speaking thus, I am forced to confine 26 Education myself to generalities, but I may add one thing: the difficxilty of lack of interest does not occur in a marked degree in the case of yoimger children. In early years most children have a cheerful aptitude for doing, with a certain dutiful zest, what is reqxiired of them; they do not differentiate to any great extent. They are stimulated by the imaginative element, but, if that is absent, they fall back on a natural and instinctive love of occupation, and if they Uke and respect a teacher, they will do with a pleased deference what they are set, to do. The difficulty begins when the child begins to grow up, when temper- ament develops and predilections begin to show their heads. Those are the years when the teacher's art is put to the test, and when all depends upon imaginative sympathy. Well, then, we are brought face to face with this per- plexing fact — that this secret of personahty, this sym- pathetic influence, whatever it may be, is the most potent of all agents; and this may produce a sense of despond- ency in the teacher's mind, because it seems so unattain- able a thing, unless it is naturally and instinctively there. It seems to be one of those virtues, hke humiUty, which dissolves and melts the moment it becomes self- conscious. I remember being much struck the other day when some important educational witnesses were being ex- amined before a board of which I was a member; each of them had some panacea for all the diflSculties of in- attention and indolence. One of them was sure that elementary science was the only thing needful. Another pinned his faith on the blackboard; another had foimd that EngUsh literature was the one real solution of the crux, and so forth. But I soon saw what was the case: all the witnesses were effective and enthiisiastic teachers; The Personality of the Teacher 27 and it became clear to me that the subject which each recommended happened only to be the subject in which he was personally most interested — the channel in which, so to speak, personaUty gained depth and force to turn the educational mill. But this does not solve the difficulty. It would be easy enough if one could arrange that teachers should only deal with congenial subjects. But one wants something larger than that. A teacher will, of course, always teach some subjects better than others, but what one desires to find, if one can, is some general formula, some method by which a teacher can exercise, even within the limits of a subject that is not wholly con- genial, that attractive and constraining power that will conduct the learner eagerly along the right path. It would be a very poor solution of the difficulty to say that the secret of personaUty was merely a natural charm, and to tell a teacher that all he or she had to do was to acquire a manner, a way, an atmosphere. Of course, it may be taken for granted that no teachers can by a species of dramatic pretense make qualities felt that do not exist in them A teacher can not assume a professional panoply of sincerity, simpUcity, and en- thusiasm; but the difficulty is rather that one finds teachers with all these qualities who are yet unable to make them felt. Is it possible to give any advice in such cases? it may be asked; is it possible for a teacher to gain, by taking thought, what is given naturally to some few? I think that, to a certain extent, it is possible. I have known teachers who, at the beginning of their careers, have been strangely ineffective, and who have yet become, in the course of a few years, teachers of real excellence. 28 Education I propose now to attempt to indicate the sort of method which may be pursued by a teacher who is truly and sincerely in earnest, who desires not only to impart knowledge but to cultivate in the learner's mind the power of thinking and working for itself, which is, after all, the end and aim of all true education. We will suppose, then, a teacher with serious aims, adequately equipped with requisite knowledge, with a power of enforcing discipline without undue friction, and of keeping on good terms with the class, but conscious at the same time of a certain stiffness and dullness of expo- sition, aware that there are hours and days when the whole thing seems uphill work, when a lesson carefully prepared does not somehow seem to go, when he himseK is unduly irritated with the slow apprehension and fitful energies of his pupils. These are experiences common enough in the early days of teaching, before the touch of cynical professionalism has crept in, before a teacher begins to say to himself that all work is bound to be tedious at times, and that, if one can not command interest, one can at least enforce obedience. The man who begins to fall back upon such reflections is losing heart; the craftsman is overcoming the artist. The teacher who wishes to take the right path, when the ways divide, must hold up clearly to himself the pain- ful fact that if the work goes badly it is more likely to be his fault than the fault of his class. That, I think, is one of the soundest educational maxims in the world: the thought must not, of course, become a morbid pre- possession; but such experience must, or ought to, warn the teacher that probably his method is becoming stere- otyped and cramped, and that at any cost he must try experiments. For this, I think, differentiates teachers more than anything else in the world — the readiness The Personality of the Teacher 29 to try experiments, the willingness to appropriate rather than to excuse the sense of failure. Let us, then, try to consider in what directions a teacher can best store and multiply force without losing at the same time suppleness and sympathy. And let me say first that the whole process must be a species of build- ing up; it must be done from existing foundations and with materials ready to hand. It will not do, I mean, to begin too far away from one's temperament and char- acter. It is useless to conceive a remote and impracti- cable ideal: the most effective id,eal is that which is not impossibly ahead of one's homely self — as in the simple fable, the carrot must dangle within reach of the donkey's nose. I do not mean that one may not admire an ideal, a type of character, which is hopelessly in advance of one's own, — that is a fruitful process, too, if it is not overstrained, — but, to make real progress, one must set oneself a definite aim, the attainment of which is within our reach. Let me take the process on three planes — the physical, the intellectual, and the moral. Physical first; and here the best guide is common sense. There is nothing which tends to make a teacher so ineffective as failing health. The first requisite is to avoid carefully and wisely all undue depletion of nervous force. Whatever else there is in a teacher's life, there must be due recreation. It is a great temptation to an enthusiastic teacher to spend an immense amount of energy on the preparation and the correction of work, and, within due limits, this is wholly good; but. the moment it is carried so far as to lose freshness, the best resource of all is sacrificed. Of course, a teacher may use this principle sophistically, and neglect his work on the ground that freshness is essential; but 30 Education few people are ever injured by overwork pure and simple. What does injure a teacher's work is to fret and worry over it; and it is when one finds this tendency begrn- ning to recur that one must recognize the danger signal and let the fresh air into the mind. The curse of the present century, especially in the case of brain workers, seems to be nervous disease, in all its forms — from irritability and tension to the more serious sjmaptoms of the complaint. And, in the case of people who, like teachers, tend to use the same part of their brains to excess, the balance must be most judiciously restored. I suppose that a century hence we shall see the cause of this oversensitiveness of nerves. We can look back and perceive that our great-grandfathers drank too freely; we can contemplate with scorn the instinct that allowed people to involve themselves in crinolines; but there is no doubt that at the present time we are doing things which will appear incomprehensibly irrational to our descendants, and paying a price for our excesses. I suppose that the cause partly Ues in the vast increase of distraction in modern life. Communication is so easy, there is so much to read and hear; the newspapers pour a flood of diversified intelhgence into our minds; there is so much movement and so much restlessness that we have not accommodated to our new environment the constitution which we inherit from people who lived more tranquil lives. Whatever the reason may be, the efi'ect is certainly there, and the teacher is one of those on whom it bears most heavily. I would therefore say that the teacher must conscien- tiously and faithfully observe the laws of health, take regular meals and consume them deliberately, practice exercise and open-air pursuits, aim at tranquil recrea- The. Personality of the Teacher 31 tions, arrange real holidays and enjoy them, cultivate the power of banishing work and anxiety from the mind. These are homely suggestions, but I do not think they are sufficiently borne in mind, and it is the teacher of the finest fiber who is most likely to forget them. For the worst part of a highly strung temperament is that it can often banish fatigue for the time by an overuse of nervous force, and I beheve that there is no duty more imperative than to obey the dictates of honest fatigue. There are occasions when the enthusiastic teacher will say "I feel quite done up, but there is just one bit of work I must do before I go to bed." Well, of coiu-se, each person has to balance conflicting claims for himself, but the frame of mind in which one spurs the weary steed on is dangerous, and, moreover, it too often results from an unmethodical use of time. The point is to make certain rules of health and to obey them implicitly. To disregard them, to break them in however high-minded a way, is often but a spiUing of the water of life, and I do not think there are any regrets so bitter as those which tell us that our ineffectiveness is due to a lack of common sense. "We all get paid in the end," said Stevenson, "wicked men and fools alike, but the fools first." And now we come to the intellectual side. And here it is, perhaps, difficult to give general advice, because so much depends upon the nature and scope of our par- ticular work as teachers. But I am sure of one thing — that a mind which is always giving out its stores must be replenished constantly. It must be with us as with the poet's mind in Tennyson's poem. He compares it to a fountain: All day and all night it is ever drawn From the brain of the purple mountain Which stands in the distance yonder, . . . And the mountain draws it from heaven above. 32 Education It may be said that this is not wholly true of many kinds of teaching, that one is not always teaching new subjects or attacking new provinces of thought, but simply teaching common things over and over again. Well, then, I would say, all the more need of freshness; for it is not teaching at all if the mind merely jerks out its subject in a mechanical way. Teaching must be the flowing of two minds together. As has been said of Christians, it was never promised that they should per- form unusual things, but that they should perform ordi- nary things in an unusual way. A teacher must never decline upon one method or become stereotyped; the point is to teach old things in a new manner, or at all events freshly and spontaneously, as if they had never so occurred to one before. When I was a schoolmaster I used to be suspicious of those of my colleagues who were always demanding new books and new subjects. I myself used to feel that the more familiar a subject was the better one could teach it. One used, perhaps, the same phrases, the same illustrations, but the pleasure and the success lay not in the novelty of the subject but in seeing it dawn in the mind of the pupil and come home to his intelligence; and to a teacher there is no pleasure like the pleasure of sending a subject home. But to do this it is essential that the mind which communicates the fact and the thought should be vigor- ous and free from staleness; it is impossible to feel a subject dreary and yet teach it in a lively way; and therefore it is essential that the teacher should keep his mind alert and vigorous. My belief, then, is that a teacher should not so much confine his studies to his prescribed subjects, but that he should have some intellectual life and nourishment The Personality of the Teacher 33 of his own — and here I beUeve that the only guide to follow is one's own taste. A teacher should read, and read widely, not necessarily classical and standard books, but books which he enjoys — poetry, history, biography, good fiction, anything which cultivates and quickens the intellectual sense, which gives a perception of liter- ary quality, which widens the horizon. Simply from the professional point of view this is of immense service. Thus a teacher who has a taste for books of travel can teach geography in a stimulating way; biography is per- haps the most repaying of all subjects, because it gives a teacher a wealth of human illustration. I believe, too, profoundly in the influence of the imagi- nation in teaching, and I think it is of the first importance to cultivate the imaginative faculty, to form a habit of seeing mental pictures: a touch or two of lively descrip- tion will bring home a fact to a childish mind in a way that no amount of exactness and accuracy will do. But the aim is that the mind should be alert and Uvely, able to take up a point briskly, in first-rate training, so to speak. And one thing I would add — let the teacher dare to be amused. There is nothing hke gayety for dealing with young minds; it is the most infectious thing in the world, and spreads hke a speeding ripple; and there- fore, though I do not wish to deny the value of a deep- seated seriousness in doing one's work, — that must he beneath all good work, — yet one must not allow one's high-mindedness to be of a ponderous and heavy kind. It is possible to ponder the ethical significance of Brown- ing overmuch. One must not, in fact, do one's work too much in the spirit of "The granunarian's funeral," but rather in the spirit of David, who, you will remember, danced before the Lord with all his might. The point is, after all, to have a method, but one must 34 Education not be too much wedded to a method. I remember a worthy schoohnaster who had what Wesley called "the lust of perfection," who spent countless hours in the correction of work. "I correct," he used to say with melancholy complacency, "faults of orthography in blue, and erroneous statements in red." That is a sound principle enough, if one finds that it carries conviction to the minds of those for whom the corrections are in- tended, but to expend one's energy upon minutiae for the sake of the method is simply to waste valuable force. What is really requisite is careful and constant observa- tion as to what does actually appeal to the youthful mind and why it so appeals; and one must be always ready to change one's method. One must not try to adopt the methods of other teachers wholesale, however successful these methods appear to be. The real object is to find out how one can do the thing best, and per- sonahty consists in having one's own way of doing it. One must never fall into the mistake of treating one's pupils en masse. It may be convenient to talk of the average boy, but one must remember that no particular boy is the average boy. A boy may be typical, but he is never identical, just as there is no such person as the person of whom we so often hear nowadays — the man in the street. He is the father of the average boy, both aHke only the convenient fictions by which we seek either to mxiltiply the force of our own opinions, or the waste-paper basket, so to speak, into which we discard our increduhties. But I may add one word of caution: it is not wise to be mnnethodical to the extent of being spasmodic or wild in our methods. Children love method and custom and orderliness. They do not hke a teacher who is always startling and surprising them, and flsdng out upon them The Personality of the Teacher 35 round corners. They will say of such a teacher that they never know what he is at. They value a certain formality and regularity, and what I am advising is not to strive after a desperate kind of originality — a sort of steeplechase across country — but rather that the thing should be done on certain lines, the road running equally within its guarding walls, but that inside the limits there should be abundant Jiveliness and no mere plodding. Soldiers know how much better a regiment marches if it marches to music, and sailors how much more merrily the capstan flies round if it keeps pace with the measure of a breezy song. And then, thirdly, there is the moral or ethical region of self-development; and this is the hardest to define because it so interpenetrates and underlies the other regions that it is difi&cult to disentagle the threads. But the basis of what I mean is the desire to be different, based on a sensible self-knowledge, not on a morbid introspection. It is possible to probe one's character so deeply that one loses sight alike of Umitations and responsibiUty. To what extent can one change oneself? Well, I think that it is possible both to curb and fortify the spirit, and that this process goes on consciously or unconsciously as long as one has an ungrudging admira- tion for the fine qualities one sees in others, and a due regret for one's own failures. One can not be generous and kindly all at once; but at least one can suppress ungenerous and unkindly methods. One can learn to praise rather than criticize immature effort; one can learn to avoid placing oneself in situ- ations which one knows by experience tend to develop one's faults. A sense of .hurry, a sense of inadequate preparation are apt to produce impatience and irritability; thus, by being deliberate and methodical, one can avoid 36 Education the occasion of stumbling. But perhaps the best help of all is to evoke, and to respond to, personal affection in those whom we have to teach. To have the anxious care of those in whom we are personally interested devel- ops sympathy very swiftly; and tenderness wins more victories even than the sense of responsibility. And thus I would advise the teacher not to shun the natural promptings of affection, though he must never allow it to override the sense of tranquil justice. Of course, one is obviously tempted to be more inter- ested in eager, alert, warm-hearted, winning temperaments than in the dull, the stubborn, the indifferent; but no pupils that I ever had to teach resented the extending of special interest to boys of marked gifts and lively enthusiasms, as long as they felt that their more attrac- tive companions did not gain in tangible conveniences by it. It is easier, in fact, to rebuke or criticize the work of a boy for whom one has manifested a personal friend- liness, because he will neither resent nor misimderstand the administration of blame; as long as one's attention and courtesy are impartial one may indulge amiable preferences provided that they are parental rather than sentimental. But the growth of moral qualities is and must be a gradual and secret process; and the worst hindrances are complacency and self-satisfaction. Happily, how- ever, the teacher who is in earnest about his work finds abundant corrective to his vanity in his daily and hourly failures to produce the effects that he desires. Yet, if a teacher is only sincerely aiming at making himself, morally and intellectually, what he desires his pupils to be, he will find that the instinctive imitativeness of the young will be more effective than any cogency of argument or fervor of reproof. The problem is, after all, the enrichment of the spirit; The Personality of the Teacher 37 but just as there are many kinds of poverty so there are many kinds of enrichment. There is the poverty of incompetence, the poverty of prodigality, the poverty of self-surrender. So, in the region of enrichment, there is the wealth of the narrow and self-satisfied mind, per- fectly content with its own stores; there is a false enrich- ment, in which all that is gathered in is only to feed the selfish luxury of the mind; and there is the enrichment that is based on self-abnegation, in which the spirit — conscious of its weakness and inadequacy, and yet earnestly desiring to leave the world a little better, pvirer, more beautiful than it was before — draws near in thought and intention to all that is wise and generous and ardent, until it becomes akin to the purpose that moves dimly and beneficently behind progress and himianity and life. And, above all, this growth of the spirit must be secret and vital, not superficial and pretentious: it must not he in the directions of arts and accomplishments, but in the region of high and noble ideas, not to be paraded or traded with, but feeding the innermost spirit. May I end with a parable? The height of the water in the Thames is conditioned not only by what is brought down in the actual channel but by a great body of water called the underground Thames, which percolates slowly the gravel on either side of the river bed and replenishes the failing stream in times of drought. I remember once at Eton seeing some engineering operations in a meadow some distance from the river: it was intended to sink an iron cistern in the ground, but when the pit was dug in the gravel a stream of pure water broke in from the side and the cistern would not settle down. To get the water out, an engine was set to work, which ptunped all day for a week; thousands of gallons of the 38 Education purest water ran to waste, but at the end of the time the water in the pit had only gone down six inches, while all the surface wells round about had fallen six inches, too; the surface of the great gravel bed had merely been sucked dry, and in a few days it was as full as ever. Thus should it be with the mind; the river channel itself should be but the sign and outward evidence of the great silent flood stealing on, fresh and ptire, from a hundred uplands, through meadow and plain, performing unnumbered gentle offices of niu'tiu'e and refreshment, and gracious ministries of unconscious tendance, of guile- less beneficence. THE SUCCESSFUL TEACHERS By ELMER ELLSWORTH BROWN jNE of the greatest American teachers, per- haps the very greatest, was Abraham Lincoln. His school was a small one, for it contained only one pupil, but it was a great one, for that pupil was Abraham Lincoln. The story of the severe training he gave himself is famiUar to his countrymen. Having learned to read, he read every book he could find in his poorly provided neighborhood — the Bible, "^sop's Fables," Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," "Robinson Crusoe," Weems's "Life of Washington." Later on he went through the Revised Statutes of Indiana and Kirkham's Enghsh Grammar and Blackstone's Commentaries. Many people there are who read many things, but the number of those who by themselves read works of solid worth, and study and review them until their con- tents are thoroughly mastered, is certainly none too great. Lincoln read as a student, and examined his own knowledge of the subject in hand when he could not find a schoolmaster friend to hear him recite his lesson. By severe application, he made himself a good practical surveyor in six weeks from the time when he borrowed his first textbook on surveying. Of his preparation for the practice of law, he said that he "never studied with anybody." His later advice to a young man who wished to study ' By permission of " The Youth's Companion" and Ginn and Company. Copyright, 1908. 39 40 Education law was, "Get books and read and study them care- fully. . . . Work, work, work is the main thing." The time came when Lincoln, having thoroughly trained himself, became a teacher of the American people. And how well he taught in this school you may read in some later developments of the American char- acter. "With maUce toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right" — so he taught his lesson. "Govermnent of the people, by the people, and for the people shall not perish from the earth"; he taught it in noble words, but he taught it better in his life. To the end that wider ser- vice of leading a people through deep trial did not turn him from the nearer task, the task of training himself. A great .'man knows how to learn from great experi- ences. He makes them his book and his rod. Few men in the world's history have had such a university course as those last four years of Abraham Lincoln's life, or have passed the tests as he passed them, down to that great, dark day of his commencement. Great learner, great teacher, he earned his people's summa cum laude and their undying love. Another great American teacher was Benjamin FrankUn, and his school consisted of Benjamin Franklin himself. In his autobiography he has told us the story of his ex- perience as a schoolmaster. His days in the schools of Boston came to an end when he was only ten years of age; but aheady he was, as he says, "passionately fond of reading." Many boys have such fondness. Franklin, however, busied himself with good books, and used them to train himself in the arts of thinking and writing. "Pilgrim's Progress," Burton's "Historical Collec- tions," and Plutarch's "Lives" furnished a part of his The Successful Teacher 41 earlier reading. Lincoln, too, read Plutarch's "Lives," but, ctu-iously enough, it was not until he had seen the statement, then erroneous, that Plutarch was one of the authors he had studied by himself. Another book which was of great value to Frankhn was a volume of the "Spectator." In unconscious ac- cord with Roger Ascham's method of teaching Latin com- position, Franklin trained himself laboriously to write as Addison wrote. He read Xenophon's "Memorabilia," and forthwith put its suggestions to use in his own intercourse with men, with the result that he seems to us more hke a modern Socrates than any other great American. And in the realm of mortals he proposed to himself an ideal of human perfection, and set for himself a severe course of ethical culture, with a view to the attainment of this ideal. Franklin, too, like Lincoln, taught himself through stress of large experience, and while he learned he became one of the great teachers of oiu- colonial people on their way to American nationality. For this time, however, we will put aside the thought of that larger teaching of Lincoln and Frankhn, and pay oxir attention rather to the schoohnastering they gave themselves. For it is not simply a pleasant paradox to call them great schoolmasters, and I do not use their names for the sake of paradox. I should hke, instead, to find in them illustrations of a deep truth — that no man is educated save as he educates himself. Whatever his opportunities, no man has ever been schooled in the full sense of the word till he has taken the matter in hand himself and become his own schoolmaster. And when he has become his own schoolmaster, two of the chief means which he must employ for his instruc- 42 Education tion and training are noble examples and the experiences of his own life. Now when you come to think of ordinary teaching, in an ordinary school, this idea of education offers some sort of measure of the school-teacher's success in that school. The successful teacher is the one who fits his pupils to educate themselves, for the business of the school is to prepare its pupils to turn the experiences of life into means for their continued and unending education. Every school is an agency for making men more capa^ ble of being educated, and every school is a normal school, for the making of self-teachers. The successful teacher, then, is making each one of his pupils a com- plete school imto himself, — master, learner, and all, — ready to go on with the business of education when school life seems to be over. A teacher who can accom- pUsh that end deserves well of the state. I have known such teachers, and I have known other teachers who were thought to be extraordinary, yet failed at this vital point. Let me make a composite pictiu-e of some of those who so failed, which shall not be really a picture of any one of them. This shadowy teacher was finely molded in form and feature, with something quite his own that gave the last touch of charm to his personal appearance; and there was the flash of power in the most casual glance of his eye. His pupils feared him, then admired him, and very soon adored him. School became for them the most interesting place in all the world, much more interesting than home, and studies were a greater dehght than play or company had been before. New ambitions were awakened, and vague aspirations troubled young hearts that before had been at ease. The Successful Teacher 43 A discontent that seemed divine took hold upon the pupils. Even those who had been dull and backward felt the new spirit of the school. The teacher had the skill to make things seem all clear that had been hard and bUnd before. Children who had been proverbially bad held out at first against the spell, but the master triumphed, and before many days they were all of them his most devoted slaves. He had a way that no one else could imitate of making himself quite one with them, and flinging out his own sympathetic note of defiance against the over-righteous judgment of others which made them the black sheep of the flock. When it came to that, they were ready to die for him. There were times when the general enthusiasm for the school and for the teacher flamed out in some school festivity, and at all times it was smoldering, so that any slight occasion might suddenly call it forth. The pupils held to their teacher Uke a band of true disciples, and their devotion was his daily bread. But all earthly ecstasy must end, and the time came when he went away. He was followed with words of love and tears of the deepest sorrow. Life dropped back flatly into its common ways. The heart of the school was gone. The new teacher could not please. How should those young people who had touched the heights be patient with the humdrum com- monplace of him who tried to fill the post that the real master had held before? Attendance soon grew ragged, and disgust showed itself in listless idleness or in open mutiny. The path of the new master was very hard indeed. That, you will say, was all a matter of temperament — the way of that brilUant and magnetic teacher. 44 Education Yes, very largely so. But temperament, like our other endowments, is a thing to be used. And the contagious and commanding temperament that I have here set forth might be used to make a successful teacher, — a teacher of the highest order, indeed, — instead of the poor, delusive show of a successful teacher that I have pictured above. The teacher in the picture made his pupils more and more dependent upon himself. That is exactly what a successful teacher deUberately avoids doing. In the words of the old German schoolmaster, he tries "to make himself useless to his pupils." It is a finer and more difficult art than the art of making disciples. Generally speaking, the maker of disciples is by no means the most successful teacher in the schools, and a teacher of this type is most of all out of place in a col- lege or university. But I have known many successful teachers in schools and colleges, and they have been of many kinds. For the most part, however, they have these two character- istics: they are wilHng that their pupils should grow, and even, it may be, outgrow themselves; and they have faith in the teachings of slow time, faith in history, past and future. Some of the best of these are living still, and I must not rob their epitaphs by telhng all their excellence while they are yet in the midst of their days. I will rather tell of one whom I never knew face to face, but whose history as a teacher I have read in the lives of his pupils. So far as scientific instruction in American schools is concerned, I suppose no one teacher has exercised a wider influence than Louis Agassiz. He was preeminently a teacher of teachers and a teacher of those who taught themselves. The Successful Teacher 45 It is a familiar story that when Agassiz opened his remarkable school on Penikese Island, his first students had laid before each of them a single fish, their first lesson consisting in examining this fish and describing accurately what they saw. It was a lesson typical of his teaching. "He that hath eyes to see let him see " was, in effect, the substance of this instruction. His students were to learn the lesson of self-reliance in the use of their own senses and the interpretation of what their senses revealed. There was much more than seeing and things seen in the teaching of Agassiz. For he held large views of the making of the earth and the things that are in the earth, and large views of the relation of the creation to the Creator. And he held to those views with great firmness, even when they crossed the current of some of the strongest thinking in the natural science of his day. But the greatness of his teaching is, I believe, evident in this — that his pupils went forth from his school more independent in their thinking than they came, more inde- pendent even of Louis Agassiz. He did not set them free from others to bind them to himself. That has happened often enough in the his- tory of teaching. But they were true to his high pur- pose, and did honor to his spiritual leadership, when they lived honestly their own spiritual life after him, and made their way to conclusions that differed from his own. This might happen under compulsory education or a system amounting to compulsion, when strong-minded pupils come under a teacher too weak intellectually or morally to lead them in the way he would have them go. But no one was compelled to go to Agassiz, and the fact that men of virile thought came to him when the 46 Education opportunity was given showed that he was a genuine leader. Sometimes a fair test of teachers and of institutions is foimd just at this point — in the kind of students they are able to attract and hold. A leader whose following is made up of men of high purpose and independent thought, and who helps them to larger freedom, in the higher sense of freedom, such a leader is a great treasure to any free people. One of those who deserves the gratitude of the Ameri- can people is Louis Agassiz. When a yoimg man he wrote to his father : "I wish it may be said of Louis Agassiz that he was the first naturalist of his time, a good citizen and . . . beloved of those who knew him." How near he came to the attainment of this purpose is pretty generally known. What I have said of the successful teacher is only one side of the story, but this is not the time to attempt the telUng of the rest of it. There are other marks of a teacher's success, but the one to which attention is called in this article seems worthy of special emphasis. We may, in a word, judge of a teacher's success by the degree of self-reliance, of "initiative," of ambition and abihty to make their own way in education, regardless of helps, which the pupils of that teacher manifest after they have gone out from his school. There is something in such teaching which aUies it with the work of the Creator, who made man to be free, although his very freedom carried with it the capacity for sin. Real teaching is in truth a creative or recrea- tive work, full of creative joy and pain. It is a making of freedom when the maker knows that every advance in freedom carries with it larger possibilities of error and n I in -i > z a -i X m m ^9 S| fe:«B!i 1 ^^1 wl^^S^S^^^^^^^KB^/'*' -s^ml, a "^m H^^QKHk .. .*>• i Ji fl ^P'.Xs.' - ..J|<( I 1 *'^ .j^#- ^ ii i ^ . J . / ' ^. ^ J^ F §■ v^H r m r^ iP f. f N s s m > z z -— '"" The Successful Teacher 47 of wrong; but that is only to say that freedom carries with it enlarged responsibility and the making of a higher morahty. As citizens of the American republic we are vitally interested in teaching such as this. And we are interested in it as a people of the City of God. The text of this little homily comes at the end. He Who made disciples of divine right, and sent forth His disciples to make other disciples, not of themselves, but of Himself, spoke to His disciples in these words: "It is expedient for you that I go away." I beheve there are many sermons for teachers and for learners in that text. THE PERSONAL FACTOR IN EDUCATION 1 By WOODROW WILSON say that there can be no vitality in teaching, and no reality, either, unless the teacher himself be vital, is surely to say a very obvious thing. The vigor of all thought and of all learning is in the thinker and the scholar, and in such words, spoken or written, as he can, by some magic, lend his own vitality to. Undoubtedly there are men who do excellent think- ing and yet can not make the processes clear to others, men who have gathered real treasures of learning and yet must, however generous their impulse, keep them private for mere lack of any power or gift of expression. For some the things that possess and govern their spirits are communicable, for others they are incommunicable. It goes without saying that the former are the only real teachers. The world must be served; and because it is in need of a multitude of servants, the dull and awkward must be employed along with the apt and capable. There is a vast deal of teaching to be done to draw the young forward to the places their elders are presently to leave, to make good the progress the world has so laboriously attained; and only a teacher here and there will lift the difficult business into the light. Men and women without a vigor and freshness of mind ' By permission of the Author, " The Youth's Companion," and Ginn and Company. Copyright, 1907. 48 The Personal Factor in Education 49 which they can communicate must be used as well as those who touch their work with a spark of originality and of individual fire, Uke a spark of life. Fortunately, there is a great deal of routine in teach- ing as in everything else, and in the doing of the routine we can make shift with the teacher who is a bit mechan- ical and without any power to freshen or illuminate the things to be taught. There is a great deal of mere information to be communicated to the pupil, a great deal of mere drill in which he is to be exercised and discipUned; and very unoriginal teachers will often be serviceable enough in such things. But education is not, after all, when properly viewed, an affair of filling and furnishing the mind, but a business of informing the spirit; and nothing affects spirit but spirit. The business of teaching is carried forward with a certain thoroughness and efficacy from generation to generation, and oftentimes with a certain triumph of achievement, because some men of an extraordinary vitality and strength of personality engage in it. The fire that leaps in them kindles the spirits of the young people whose lives they touch. These are the torch- bearers, and upon their life and energy depend the per- petuation and acceptance of the truth, the life of all knowledge. It is a rare child that is born with an appetite and readiness for learning and that turns to books with a sort of native taste and eagerness. Most of us have had to be awakened to an interest in what the world has thought and done, have had to be held off from play and the natm-al occupations of a child's day, to which we should have timied had we been left alone, and obliged by the force of another's will, stronger than our own, to fix our attention upon things that lay outside 50 Education our immediate experience, things done long ago, when the world we live in was only a-making, things thought out concerning ourselves and matters lying all about us which we should never have dreamed of or attempted to originate, and should have gone all our lives without knowledge of had the schoolmaster not forced us to look and see and comprehend. And no one who has ever really learned anything can fail to remember the teach- ers who thoroughly awakened him and first set his mind aglow with interest and comprehension. Every schoolboy should read "Tom Brown at Rugby." He will find himself reproduced in Tom or in Harry East or in some one of the dehghtful boys, jolly or sedate, who crowd those pages. And he will see a great figure there, the figure of the great Arnold of Rugby, the mas- ter of the school, its dominating spirit, the man to whom every lad gave reverence and from whom every lad drank a spirit of honor and high purpose and love for the things that satisfy. He will not know till afterward, when his reading leads him elsewhere, how great a man he has met. Thomas Arnold was great among scholars in the wide field of history, and great among those who gave to the Church of England a statesmanhke vision of what it was to guide a nation and evangelize a world. But there at Rugby he was great enough, the friend and counselor of boys, their model of what was elevated and just and gracious. They felt every day how stem he was to insist on duty, on tasks well done, and yet how tender to sympathize and how quick to strengthen even a boy at fault, and show him where safety and honor lay. He was no doubt a great historian, a great chm-chman, a great citizen because he was the man these lads saw him, a lover of learning and of right living, a lover and The Personal Factor in Education 51 counselor of those who were setting out upon the great enterprises of hfe, which contained for them joy or defeat according as they took or would not take the lessons he taught them by precept and by example. Every boy who went from Rugby went touched, he knew not how, by this great spirit, who seemed the spirit of the place itself, and yet also the spirit of all learning and of all reverent thoughts. The annals of our American colleges are rich in examples of this per- sonal factor in education, this vivification of everything connected with it by reason of the presence of some great spirit whose touch, it would seem, undergraduates could not escape unless they were made of mere insensible clay. There are four names more frequently mentioned than any others: EHphalet Nott, Francis Wayland, Mark Hopkins, James McCosh. Each of these notable men was a great personality. Eliphalet Nott was president of Union College through two generations (1804r-1866), and many a man active and useful throughout the strenuous nineteenth century, the formative period of the nation, looked back to him as the man who had given him hope and principle in action. No man came out of Union College in those days untouched by the influences of that great nature, that shrewd and kindly master of the spirits of young men. Youngsters incorrigible elsewhere found in him a man who at once comprehended and dominated them. He gave them his sympathy and took the pains to under- stand their troubles, — that seemed instinctive with him, as if all young men's secrets and sins were an open book to him, — but he mastered and commanded them also, and they found through him hope and means of reformation. He was like a great moral dynamo, an inexhaustible 52 Education source of moral energy for all who lacked or had lost it. He was the personal friend and counselor of every man in the Uttle college of his day, and no man left those halls ignorant of the duty and destiny he had been put into the world to fulfill. The college was a school for the rectification alike of the mind and of the conscience. Study, when understood as Doctor Nott understood it, became, not a mere set of daily tasks, but a means of life, and the duties of the college shone clear as but the preliminary duties of a whole career. Not a few of our colleges had teachers and presidents like this man in the simpler days, when students were not too numerous to constitute, as it were, a single family of comrades. Some of our smaller colleges have them yet; here and there a man of this type stands out a notable figure even in the faculty of some great university — a man who is the intimate guide and counselor of his pupils, an inspiration to them in study, a never-to-be-forgotten model in conduct; a man from whom ideals are taken; a man who communicates those finer conceptions of thought and duty which shed light upon all a man's pathway and solace and cheer him at every turn. Because of such men learning keeps its dignity and its fruitful connections with the Hfe of men. Two such men will redeem a whole faculty of plodders; a half- dozen of them will give any university a foremost place of influence in their generation. They are the true knights of education. Francis Wayland was not of the same tjrpe as Elipha- let Nott. His strong nature, direct and full of force in everything, was felt at Brown almost as vividly as Doctor Nott's at Union, by the students individually as well as by the college as a living organization. The Personal Factor in Education 53 He acted upon individuals no less than upon bodies of men. He loved men and counsel. But he was also a great organizer of teaching, a master in the classroom and behind the lecture desk, projecting great subjects upon the comprehension of his pupils by a singular mastery of exposition; busying himself with the prepa- ration of textbooks which should serve young minds for introduction into great bodies of thought; keeping his strong shoulder always to the task of systematizing and perfecting the teaching of the great fimdamental subjects of instruction. He served, not Brown alone, but all American schools by his vital example and direct assistance, and was a great serviceable citizen of the republic of learning — his services at the nation's disposal. Such men make learning a branch of the pubUc service. They display a sort of statesmanship in let- ters and lift education to universal significance. They are of the same stuff and capacity as great men of busi- ness, great organizers of enterprise, great originators of undertakings which have a scope embracing peoples and nations. There is a vitaUty in them which seems to renew the initiative and energy of a whole generation. Mark Hopkins, the beloved president of Williams, was more nearly of the type of Doctor Nott, the father and exemplar of his pupils — and yet there was some- thing else in him which it is difficult for one who never knew or saw him to describe. Garfield once said that if you had only a log for a seat, a lad on one end and Mark Hopkins on the other, you would have all the essential elements of a college. Doctor Hopkins was more of a teacher than Doctor Nott was. There was in him the sweetness and the strength of a scholarship that is deeply human, genial, 54 Education pure, unselfish, and yet something also of the serious Puritan strain that made the conscience master of all things. He preached often of love as the law of life, and it was love, deep, simple, unaffected, which governed his dealings with the men about him. And you felt that there was something else suggested by his tone and presence, something besides that gracious, noble per- sonality, that there was some figure standing behind or beside him to which he was himself obedient — the figure of Christ, no doubt, but of Christ speaking amidst the duties of modern fife, speaking of love and for- giveness, but also of tasks to do, a partisan of learning and of all that lifts and disciplines the human spirit, a teacher of Ufe no less than a sacrifice for sins. In the presence at once of master and servant, you felt the deepest compulsions of the classroom, and knew that you were in a college whose tasks were but a part of life. The mere tradition of such a life will last a college a generation. It seems the function of such men to inform institutions themselves with a vivid personaUty. The impulses they impart release ideals from the abstract and transmute them into places and studies. There is no estimating the fertilizing force they exercise upon young minds. Education in their hands is more than learning; it is Ufe itself. And only when learning and life are thus spiritually united are they both lifted to per- fection. James McCosh was my own master in the days when he was transforming Princeton. I can speak of him, not by hearsay merely and by report of what other men felt and learned who came into contact with him, but also out of my own fortunate experience. I shall never cease to be thankful that I came into direct personal asso- The Personal Factor in Education 55 elation with a man so vital and individual at every point, so easy a master in whatever he undertook. It added a good deal, no doubt, to the impression Doctor McCosh made upon all whom he dealt with on this side of the water that he was a Scotsman. There was a brusque directness in his manner that at once arrested the attention. An interesting intonation went always with the sentences that came from his lips, red- olent with the flavor of the Scottish accent, that gave piquancy to everything he said. There was always some phrase or turn that seemed wholly his own. But the force that was in him needed nothing acci- dental to enhance it. He found Princeton a quiet country college and lifted it to a conspicuous place among the most notable institutions of the country, the place to which its age, its traditions, its long history of inteUigent development entitled it. He laid the foundations of a genuine university, and his own enthusiasm for learning vivified the whole spirit of the place. It would be difficult to exaggerate the degree of stimu- lation he imparted to every element of growth there was in the place, or the reach and significance of the changes, both of method and of organization, brought about at Princeton by his influence. But these are the things of which the historian of education in America will tell; they are not the things which the men who were undergraduates in the days of his presidency recall and are grateful for. . Every one of them felt that in knowing him they had come into contact with a great man and a great person- ality. They could never afterward lose the sense of his power, of the singular energy and directness of his nature, of the keen and concentrated ardor with which he sought the things that made for the intellectual and 56 Education moral advantage and advancement of the men roimd him and under him. He was often very absolute and sometimes not a little arbitrary, but only small natures laid that up against him; because every man who had any insight could see with how transparent an honesty he acted and with how high and single a purpose, always for the college, never for himself. His faults were the faults of his qualities, and his qualities were obviously great qualities; quahties such as belong only to great and vital men; qualities that rule and create. The life of the place seemed to spring from him as its source, and his very oddities seemed to add to the impression of individuality and force. Such men freshen everything that they touch, and seem creative even when they only adjust and adapt. It would be difficult to overestimate the effect upon young men of coming into immediate personal associa- tion with them. Although Princeton grew rapidly in his day, the number of students never became so large, that he could not, in one way or another, touch all of them. He dominated them even when they were least willing, and they at least got the clear conviction it was needful they should get, that learning was a thing alive and quick with the power to generate life. No one can doubt that education would be a thing hopelessly dull, and without life and potency, were it not for such men as these and many others, a httle company of great spirits in each generation. Nothing can communicate fire but fire itself; nothing can touch spirit but spirit; and there is no vital touch but the individual touch. Men must meet face to face to kindle one another, and must know one another, not in crowds merely, not in lecture rooms and at formal The Personal Factor in Education 57 exercises alone, but also intimately, singly, with a look directly into one another's eyes, and that direct touch of thought which comes when the one fixes his attention upon the other and mind touches mind. The problem of the great university, where pupils throng thousands strong, is the problem' of the separa- tion of teacher and pupil, the problem of crowds and of the loss of this vital contact. How can even the genius of the born teacher avail to lead and quicken so many? How shall he find the time, where shall he find the place and the opportunity to get intimate access to individuals in so great a multitude? The English universities solve the problem by their divisions into colleges; or, rather, their division from the first into colleges, in each of which only a compara- tively small number of undergraduates can live and study, enabling them to avoid this loss of the teacher amongst the crowd. Each college is a little community apart, a Uttle aca- demic family in which there can be daily intimacy be- tween teacher and pupil; and nowhere, probably, in all the academic world, is the contact between the two more natural, more constant, more influential than there. The masters of Balliol have been the foster fathers of generation after generation of men who have been awakened to the highest achievements alike of scholar- ship and of public service in their day. And nowhere better than in the English colleges can the part which the personaUty of the teacher plays in education be studied — the deadening effect of inter- course with teachers who make their teaching a mere routine and have no spark either of enthusiasm or of natural energy with which to make themselves potent to the stimulation of the students entrusted to their care. 58 Education and the quite incalculable stimulation of intimacy with teachers fitted to be guides, eager to be guides, and showing at every step a loving familiarity with fair regions of learning and of science — good companions, good counselors, lovers of young men and of all that quickens and informs their spirits for the work of the world. A great tutor will beget in the men he touches an energy and worth of faculty which go to the very- depths of character as well as of achievement. The personal factor in education is the chief factor. For the young it is necessary, in order that they may get the real zest of learning into their hearts, that learning should live in their presence in the person of some man or woman whom they can love and must admire; whose force touches them to the quick, they scarcely know how, whose example they can not shake off or forget, whose spoken words they can not dismiss, whose written words even, although they be seen after many years, when the sound of the voice, the gesture, the glance of the eye have been lost, bring back upon the instant all the old magic Uke a recreative touch, a rebirth of the very person. No system of teaching which depends upon methods and not upon persons, or which imagines the possibility of any substitution of the written word for the Uving person, can work any but mechanical effects. The teacher's own spirit must, with intimate and imder- standing touch, mold and fashion the spirit of the pupil; there is no other way to hand the immortal stuff of learning on. PESTALOZZI, A GREAT EDUCATORS By E. L. KEMP ^N the year 1805 there was opened at Yverdun, in Switzerland, a school that was for a time the most famous in the world. It was visited by statesmen, scholars, and educators from nearly every country in Europe and from America. It sent teachers to most of the important cities of Europe, from St. Petersburg to Madrid, and at least one to America. The founder of this school, John Henry Pestalozzi, was one of the strangest figures ever prominent in the schoolroom. He was ungainly of form, awkward in movement, slovenly in dress, and by no means hand- some of countenance. He never had the training of a teacher, and came to the work but slowly and late in life. He never could adapt himself to the necessary routine of school work, and was so deficient by nature and training in practical skill for the management of affairs that the schools he personally founded and con- ducted eventually failed. But there was a great soul in the man, and his soul went into his work. No other man has so thoroughly stamped the impress of his per- sonality and genius upon the growth of modern ele- mentary education. He was born in Zurich, in 1746. Pestalozzi was extremely sensitive and had a lively imagination, a combination naturally unpractical. It was made more so in his case by early training. His ' From " History of Education." Copyright, 1901, by J- B. Lippincott & Company. 59 60 Education mother, widowed when he was a little child, brought him up as a household tenderling; behind the stove, as he termed it. If men of his stamp are intense enough in feeling and purpose they make good reformers, and Pestalozzi was intense enough to be one of the noblest of all reformers. Once, when elated at the pleased visit of a nobleman to his school, he struck a key with his arm in the impetuous movements of his enthusiasm. The blow bent the key, though it was half an inch thick, yet he never discovered that he had hit it until an hour after- wards, when he sought the cause of a painful swelhng of his arm. The best revelation of the man's innermost soul is found in a letter written to the lady of his choice, Anna Schulthess, whom he afterwards married. The follow- ing is the substance of the letter: "My dear friend, — I shall now reveal myself frankly to you, let you look as deeply into my soul as I am able to penetrate myself. I am improvident and uncautious, and lack presence of mind in unexpected changes of pros- pect. I may not conceal these defects from the maiden I love, though I may in some measure overcome them. I am extreme in praise and blame, and in my Ukes and disUkes. I am negUgent in matters of etiquette and in all other things of little importance. . . . "I must also confess to you that I shall always sub- ordinate my duty to my wiie to the duty I owe to my country. Though I shall be the tenderest of husbands, I shall always consider it my duty to remain inexorable to the tears of my wife if she ever seeks with them to keep me from the performance of my duty as a citizen. My life will not pass without important and critical under- takings. No fear of men shall ever keep me from speak- ing if my country's need commands me to speak. My Pestalozzi, a Great Educator 61 whole heart belongs to my country. I shall risk every- thing to alleviate the misery and need of my people." The condition of the masses of the people appealed to him. It was miserable in the extreme. The nobles oppressed them, they were ignorant and superstitious, and,, too often, unthrifty, dissolute, and dishonest. His whole hfe was dedicated to their deliverance. He first thought to work for their good as a minister, but broke down in his first sermon. He next turned to the study of law, in order that he might champion the peasants in the courts. He studied so hard that his health failed. He then conceived the idea that the poor lands of Switzerland might be made profitable by the culti- vation of madder. Accordingly, he bought a farm to try the experiment. He built a house upon it, and called the place Neuhof — New Farm. The madder culture was not profitable, and his financial backers in Ziu-ich withdrew their support. When the farm failed, Pestalozzi, in 1775, began on it h's career as a teacher in a noble way. He opened an industrial school. He gathered together about fifty poor children, whose labor was to pay for their instruction and maintenance. He taught them to work on the farm in summer, to spin and weave in winter. He taught them also the use of language, singing, and the reading of the Bible. This was a forerunner of many similar institutions that have since blessed humanity, but it was not successful. Pestalozzi was injudicious in his grading of the work in weaving, and the parents and children returned his benevolence with ungrateful dis- honesty. The children were often withdrawn from the school after receiving a new suit of clothes for which they had as yet given no return. In five years the experiment ended in disastrous failure. It had cost 62 Education his wife's money, and left him heavily involved in debt besides. In the eighteen years that followed the failure of the industrial school, Pestalozzi was engaged in a melan- choly struggle with poverty. Often at mealtime there was scarcely a crust in the house. In this time he won fame as an author. In 1780 he published " The Evening Hours of a Hermit," and the next year " Leonard and Gertrude." In the former work he put into aphorisms all the best things advocated in pedagogical literature since the time of Comenius. To what extent he bor- rowed from others is hard to tell; but, whether much or little, all was stated in his own inspiring way and made aUve with his sweet and generous spirit. In 1798 Stanz was burned by the French. A revolu- tionary republic had been established in Switzerland in the social upheaval consequent upon the French Revo- lution. Pestalozzi was in sympathy with the new government. The ravages of the war left many poor and orphaned children at Stanz. He received an appoint- ment to open a school there. A part of an unfinished Ursuline convent was assigned to the school. With one housekeeper, Pestalozzi made his home there in charge of about eighty children. They ranged in age from four to ten. They were ragged and dirty. He undertook to be at once father, mother, and teacher to them. As at Neuhof, he combined manual training with teaching. There were lessons from six to eight in the morning and from four to eight in the evening. The intervening time was devoted to labor. There were no books, and scarcely a child knew his letters. To ac- complish as much as possible, Pestalozzi devised con- cert exercises, as had been done in the schools of the Pestalozzi, a Great Educator 63 Christian Brothers before, and a monitorial system similar to that employed by Bell and Lancaster after- wards. Having no books, he taught things. Number lessons and language lessons were based on the study and handling of objects, and geography and natural history were taught in conversational exercises. The reading lessons were combined with writing. Pestalozzi could not give the children special religious instructions, because they were Catholic and he was Reformed. As occasion offered, he taught them the practical exercise of Christian virtues. He prayed with them night and morning, wept with them when they were sad, laughed with them when they were happy. By the depth of his sympathy and the energy of his enthusiasm he accomplished astonishing results in a short time, but at the expense of his health. Before a year had passed the French returned and used the build- ing as a hospital. This closed the school and saved him from complete physical collapse. For a time, after that, Pestalozzi was assistant teacher at Burgdorf. He was soon dismissed, partly because of inability to adapt himself to the routine of school work, but mainly because of the jealousy of the head master. This was due to the strong hold Pestalozzi gained upon the affections of the pupils and the success of his work in spite of its irregularity. With a strong corps of teachers devoted to him and his methods he opened a private school there that became successful and famous. At this time he published "How Gertrude Teaches Her Children." Pestalozzi was obliged to give up the building at Burgdorf for government use, and in 1805 he estabhshed his school in an old fortress at Yverdun. There the eyes of the civilized world were turned upon him. Teachers came to him to learn their profession anew 64 Education and statesmen to find in his system a new source of life and vigor for their countries. At last all his ideas had an opportunity to take form in practice, and different departments of school work were developed in har- mony with his views by skillful teachers. Nearly every feature characteristic of the methods employed in our elementary schools to-day was tried in the school at Yverdun. Pupils learned numbers by niunbering objects. They developed mastery of lan- guage by conversing and writing about things which were brought under their observation. They studied birds and trees and flowers; and, imder supervision, drew pictures of them, and talked and wrote about them. They made excursions into the country for health and observation. They studied the valley of the Rhone, and modeled its structure with clay carried back from it. They were introduced to the study of geom- etry by cutting out or modeling geometrical figures. It was from Yverdim that the new schools of Prussia and other parts of Germany took their form and drew their spirit. Pestalozzi seemed at last to be on the highway to success and fortune, but dissensions among the teachers weakened the school, and finally broke it up. It was closed in 1825, and, two years after, its foimder's hfe went out in disappointment and sorrow. It is easy to see that Pestalozzi, like Comenius, be- Ueved in education as a primary means of regenerating society, that it reaches society through the individual, and that it means for the individual the promotion of a natiu-al development. "Sound education," he said, "stands before me symbolized by a tree planted near fertilizing waters. A Uttle seed, which contains the design of the tree, its form and proportions, is placed in Pestalozzi, a Great Educator 65 the soil. See how it germinates and expands into trunk, branches, leaves, flowers, and fruit! The whole tree is an uninterrupted chain of organic parts, the plan of which existed in its seed and roots." He believed that intellectual growth has its basis in direct observation, in the proper use of the senses. He sought to use language, drawing, and modehng as actual forms of expression for thoughts and feeUngs already acquired. "We learn to do by doing," the prop- osition first formulated by Comenius, he accepted, but gave it a wide range of application. He was convinced that to lead a child to perform a virtuous act cheerfully is worth more than a learned discom-se on the subject of virtue. At Stanz he persuaded the children to make a sacrifice for similarly unfortunate children in another district by reminding them of what had been done for them. He carried his analysis of school work to extremes. Object teaching was to result in a knowledge of form, number, and speech. These he reduced to their ele- ments, and insisted on having children drilled in them. He wanted elementary sounds repeated by the mother to the baby in her arms. He also had an exaggerated notion of the resemblance between the school and the home. He endeavored to introduce the relations and methods of home into the school, and those of the school into the home. He tried to so simplify the primary work of the school that mothers, as the best teachers for the child, might easily apply the methods at home. Out of these efforts grew the Kindergarten. To the ideas and work of Pestalozzi must be attrib- uted also the normal school as we know it now in the United States. It differs radically from the earlier institutions designed to prepare teachers. They were, in 66 Education the strictest sense, training schools, inasmuch as all they sought to accomplish was to make teachers skillful in certain fixed methods of teaching the different branches and of maintaining discipline.. Sometimes they were litt'e more than reviewing schools. Other men have been able to think more systematically and comprehensively on education than Pestalozzi; it is probable that not a single one of his main ideas was entirely original with him; but yet he is the prince among modern educational reformers. With unsur- passed breath of philanthropic spirit he seized upon every vital idea that had yet been advocated for the reform of education. What had been thoughts and ideas to others became more to him; they became the enthusiasm of his soul. He was willing to dedicate his life to them and to make sacrifice for their reahzation. DICKENS AS AN EDUCATORS By JAMES L. HUGHES ^ ICKENS was England's greatest educational reformer. His views were not given to the I^ world in the form of ordinary didactic treat- ises, but in the form of object lessons in the most entertaining of all stories. Millions have read his books, whereas but hundreds would have read them if he had written his ideals in the form of direct, systematic exposition. He is certainly not less an educator because his books have been widely read. The highest form of teaching is the informal, the indirect, the incidental. The fact that his educational principles are revealed chiefly by the evolution of the char- acters in his novels and stories, instead of by the direct philosophic statements of scientific pedagogy or psychol- ogy, gives Dickens higher rank as an educator, not only because it gives him much wider influence, but because it makes his teaching more effective by arousing deep, strong feeling to give permanency and propulsive force to his great thoughts. Was Dickens consciously and intentionally an educator? The prefaces to his novels; the preface to his " Household Words" ; the educational articles he wrote; the prominence given in his books to child training in homes, institutions, and schools; the statements of the highest educational philosophy found in his writings; and especially the clear- ness of his insight and the profoundness of his educational ' Reprinted from Hughes's " Dickens as an Educator." Copyright, 1900, by D, Appleton & Company. 67 68 Education thought, as shown by his condemnation of the wrong and his appreciation of the right in teaching and training the child, prove beyond question that he was not only broad and true in his sympathy with childhood, but that he was a careful and progressive student of the fundamental principles of education. Dickens deals with twenty-eight schools in his writings, evidently with definite pm-poses in each case: "Minerva House," in "Sketches by Boz"; "Dotheboys Hall," in "Nicholas Nickleby"; Mr. Marton's two schools. Miss Monflather's school, and Mrs. Wackles's school, in ' ' Old Cu- riosity Shop"; Dr. BUmber's school and "The Grinders'" school, in "Dombey and Son"; Mr. Creakle's school. Dr. Strong's • school, Agnes's school, and the school Uriah Heep attended, in "David Copperfield"; the school at which Esther was a day boarder and Miss Donney's school, in "Bleak House"; Mr. McChoakmnchild's school, in "Hard Times"; Mr. Wopsle's great aunt's school, in "Great Expectations"; the evening school attended by Charley Hexam, Bradley Headstone's school, and Miss Peecher's school, in "Our Mutual Friend " ; Phoebe's school, in "Barbox Brothers"; Mrs. Lemon's school, in "HoUday Romance"; Jemmy Lirriper's school, in "Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings"; Miss Pupford's school, in "Tom Tiddler's Ground"; the school described in "The Haunted House"; Miss Twinkle ton's seminary, in "Edwin Drood"; the schools of the Stepney Union; "The Schoolboy's Story"; and " Our School." In addition to these twenty-eight schools, he describes a real school in "American Notes," and makes brief refer- ences to The Misses Nettinball's establishment, Mr. Crip- ples's academy, Drowvey and Grimmer's school, the Foun- dation school attended by George Silverman, Scrooge's school, Pecksniff's school for architects, Fagin's school for Dickens as an Educator 69 training thieves, and three dancing schools, conducted by Mr. Baps, Signer Billsmethi, and Mr. Turveydrop. He introduces Mr. Pocket, George Silverman, and Canon Crisparkle as tutors, and Mrs. General, Miss Lane, and Ruth Pinch as governesses. Mrs. Sapsea had been the proprietor of an academy in Cloisterham. One of the first sketches by "Boz" was "Our Schoolmaster," and his books are full of illustrations of wrong training of children in homes, in institutions, and by professional child trainers, such as Mrs. Pipchin. Clearly Dickens intended to reveal the best educational ideals, and to expose what he regarded as weak or wrong in school methods, and especially in child training. Dickens was the first great English student of the kindergarten. His article on " Infant Gardens," pub- lished in " Household Words " in 1855, is one of the most comprehensive articles ever written on the kindergarten philosophy. It shows a perfect appreciation of the physi- cal, intellectual, and spiritual aims of Froebel, and a clear recognition of the value of right early training and of the influence of free self-activity in the development of individual power and character. Dickens is beyond comparison the chief English apostle of childhood, and its leading champion in seciuing a just, intelligent, and considerate recognition of its rights by adulthood, which till his time had been deliberately coer- cive and almost universally tyrannical in dealing with children. He entered more fully than any other EngUsh author into sympathy with childhood from the standpoint of the child. Other educators and philanthropists have shown consideration for children, but Dickens had the perfect sympathy with childhood that sees and feels with the child, not merely for him. Dickens attacked all forms of coercion in child training. 70 Education He discussed fourteen types of coercion, from the brutal corporal punislunent of Squeers and Creakle in schools, of Bumble and the Christian philanthropist with the white waistcoat in institutions, and of the Murdstones and Mrs. Gargery in homes, to the gentle but dwarfing firmness of the dominant will of placid Mrs. Crisparkle. He condemned aU coercion because it prevents the full development of selfhood, and makes men negative instead of positive. Among the many improvements made in child training none is more complete than the change in discipline. For this change the world is indebted chiefly to Froebel and Dickens. Froebel revealed the true philosophy, Dickens gave it wings; Froebel gave the thought, Dickens made the thought clear and strong by arousing energetic feeling in harmony with it. Thought makes slow progress without a basis of feehng. Dickens opened the hearts of humanity in sjrmpathy for suffering childhood, and thus gave Froebel's philosophy definiteness and propulsive power. The darkest clouds have been cleared away from child hfe dining the past fifty years. Teachers, managers of institutions for the care of children, and parents are now severely punished by the laws of civiHzed coimtries for offenses against children that were approved by the most enlightened Christian philosophy at the time of Froebel and Dickens as necessary duties essential in the proper training of childhood. Dickens helped to break the bonds of the doctrine of child depravity. This doctrine had a most depressing in- fluence on educators. It was not possible to reverence a child so long as he was regarded as a totally depraved thing. Froebel and Dickens did not teach that a child is totally divine, but they did beUeve that every child Dickens as an Educator 71 possesses certain elements of divinity which constitute selfhood or individuality, and that if this selfhood is de- veloped in conscious unity with the Divine Fatherhood the child will attain to complete manhood. This thought gives the educator a new and a higher attitude toward childhood. The child is no longer a thing to be repressed, but a being to be developed. Men are not persistently dwarfed now by deliberate efforts to define a blighting con- sciousness of weakness; they are stimulated to broader effort and higher purpose by a true self-consciousness of individual power. The philosophy that trains men to rec- ognize responsibility for the good in their nature is infi- nitely more productive educationally than that which teaches men responsibility for the evil in their nature. Dickens taught that loving sympathy is the highest qualification of a true teacher. He showed this .to be true by both positive and negative illustrations. Mr. Marton, the old schoolmaster in "Old Ciuiosity Shop," was a perfect type of a sympathetic teacher. Dr. Strong was "the ideal of the whole school, for he was the kindest of men." Phoebe's school was such a good place for the Uttle ones, because she loved them. Like Mr. Marton, she had not studied the new systems of teaching, but lov- ing sympathy gave her power and made her school a place in which the good in human hearts grew and blossomed naturally. "You are fond of children and learned in the new sys- tems of teaching them," said Mr. Jackson. "Very fond of them," replied Phoebe, "but I know nothing of teaching beyond the pleasvire I have in it, and the pleasure it gives me when they learn. Perhaps your overhearing my Mttle scholars sing some of their lessons has led you so far astray as to think me a good teacher? Ah, I thought so! No, I have only read and been told 72 Education about that system. It seems so pretty and pleasant, and to treat them so like the merry robins they are, that I took up with it in my little way." She had heard of the kindergarten and had caught some of its spirit of sympathy with the child, but she did not understand its methods. Jemmy Lirriper received perfectly sympathetic treatment from Mrs. Lirriper and the Major; Agnes loved her little scholars; Esther, who sympathized with everybody, loved her pupils, and was beloved by them; and the Bachelor, who introduced Mr. Marton to his second school, was a genuine boy in his comprehensive sympathy with real, boyish boyhood. So throughout all his books Dickens pleads for kindly treatment for the child, and for complete sympathy with him in his childish feelings and interests. He gave the child the place of honor in literature for the first time, and he aroused the heart of the Christian world to the fact that it was treating the child in a very un-Christlike way. He pleaded for a better education for the child, for a free childhood, for greater liberty in the home and in the school, for fuller sympathy, especially at the time when childhood merges into youth and when the mysteries of hfe have begun to make themselves conscious to the young mind and heart. The poorer the child the greater the need he revealed. Canon Crisparkle, Esther Smnmerson, Mr. Jarndyce, Joe Gargery, Rose Maylie, Allan Woodcourt, Betty Hig- den, Mr. Sangsby, the Old Schoolmaster, the Bachelor, Mrs. Lirriper, Major Jackmann, Doctor Marigold, Agnes Wickfield, Mr. George, and Mr. Brownlow are types of the people with whom Dickens would fill the world — men and women whose hearts were overflowing with true sym- pathy. Esther Summerson is the best type of perfect sympathy to be met with in literatm-e. She expressed Dickens as an Educator 73 the central principle of Dickens's philosophy regarding sympathy when she said: "When I love a person very tenderly indeed my understanding seems to brighten; my comprehension is quickened when my affection is." The need of sympathy with childhood was revealed by Dickens most strongly by the cruelty, the coercion, and the harshness of such characters as Squeers, Creakle, Bumble, the Murdstones, Mrs. Gargery, John Willet, Mrs. Pipchin, Mrs. Clennam, and the teachers in The Grinders' school. Dickens's description of Dr. Blimber's school is the most profound criticism of the cramming system of teach- ing that was ever written. He treats the same subject also in "Hard Times," "Christmas Stories," and "A Holi- day Romance." The vital importance of a free, rich childhood, the value of the imagination as the basis of intellectual and spiritual development, the folly of the Herbartian psy- chology relating to the soul, the error of regarding fact- storing as the chief aim of education, and the terrible evils resulting from the tyranny of adulthood in dealing with childhood are all treated very ably in "Hard Times," the most advanced and most profound of Dickens's works from the standpoint of the educator. The need of a real childhood, so well expressed in Froe- bel's maxim, "Let childhood ripen in childhood," is shown also in "Nicholas Nickleby," "Old Curiosity Shop," "Martin Chuzzlewit," "Barnaby Rudge," "Dombey and Son," "Great Expectations," and "Edwin Drood." The true reverence for individual selfhood is shown in "Dombey and Son," "David Copperfield," "Bleak House," "Hard Times," "Little Dorrit," "Our Mutual Friend," and "Edwin Drood." The wisdom of studying the subject of nutrition as one 74 Education of the most important subjects connected with the develop- ment of children physically, intellectually, and morally, and the meanness of carelessness too frequently shown in feeding children, were taught in '/Oliver Twist," "Old Curiosity Shop," "Martin Chuzzlewit," "Dombey and Son," "David Copperfield," "Bleak House," "Great Expectations," "Edwin Drood," "Christmas Stories," and "American Notes." Play as an essential factor in education is treated in "Martin Chuzzlewit," "Dombey and Son," "David Copperfield," and "American Notes." The folly of the old practice of attempting to educate by polishing the surface of the character, of training from without instead of from within, is revealed in "Bleak House" and "Little Dorrit." "Bleak House" discusses the contents of children's minds and the need of early experiences to form apper- ceptive centers of feeling and thought in a comprehensive and suggestive manner. The need of practicing the fundamental law of cooper- ation and the sharing of responsibilities and duties, as the foundation for the true comprehension of the law of com- munity, is shown in "Barnaby Rudge, " "David Copper- field," "Dombey and Son," and "Little Dorrit." The need of child study is suggested in "David Copper- field" and "Bleak House." The value of joyousness in the development of true, strong character is discussed in "Nicholas Nickleby," "Barnaby Rudge," "Old Curiosity Shop," "Martm Chuzzlewit," "Dombey and Son," "David Copperfield," "Hard Times," "Little Dorrit," "Great Expectations," and "Edwm Drood." Dickens was one of the first Englishmen to see the need of normal schools to train teachers, and to advocate the Dickens as an Educator 75 abolition of uninspected private schools and the estabhsh- ment of national schools. He taught these ideals in the preface to "Nicholas Nickleby," issued in 1839, so that he very early caught the spirit of Mann and Barnard in America, and saw the wisdom of their efforts to establish schools supported, controlled, and directed by the state. He says, in his preface to "Nicholas Nickleby": "Of the monstrous neglect of education in England, and the disregard of it by the state as a means of forming good or bad citizens, and miserable or happy men, this class of schools long afforded a notable example. Although any man who had proved his unfitness for any other occupation in life was free, without examination or quahfi- cation,to open a school anywhere; although preparation for the functions he undertook was required in the surgeon who assisted to bring a boy into the world, or might one day assist, perhaps, to send him out of it; in the chemist, the attorney, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker; the whole round of crafts and trades, the school- master excepted; and although schoolmasters, as a race, were the blockheads and impostors who might naturally be expected to spring from such a state of things, and to flourish in it, these Yorkshire schoolmasters were the lowest and most rotten round in the whole ladder. Trad- ers in the avarice, indifference, or imbecility of parents, and the helplessness of children; ignorant, sordid, brutal men, to whom few considerate persons would have intrusted the board and lodging of a horse or a dog; they formed the worthy corner stone of a structure which, for absurdity and magnificent high-handed laissez-aller neglect, has rarely been exceeded in the world. "We hear sometimes of an action for damages against the unqualified medical practitioner, who has deformed a broken limb in pretending to heal it. But what about the 76 Education hundreds of thousands of minds that have been deformed forever by the incapable pettifoggers who have pretended to form them? " I make mention of the race, as of the Yorkshire school- masters, in the past tense. Though it has not yet finally disappeared, it is dwindling daily. A long day's work re- mains to be done about us in the way of education, Heaven knows; but great improvements and faciUties toward the attainment of a good one have been furnished of late years." This leaves no doubt in regard to the conscious purpose of Dickens in writing with definite educational plans. Incidentally he discusses every phase of what is called the "new education." He was the first and the greatest Enghsh student of Froebel, and his writings gave wings to the profoimd thought of the greatest philosopher of child- hood. Froebel revealed the truth that feeling is the basis of thought. In harmony with this great psychological principle, it may fairly be claimed that the works of Dick- ens so fully aroused the heart of the civihzed world to the wrongs inflicted on childhood, and the grievous errors committed in training children, as to prepare the minds of all who read his books for the conscious revelation of the imperfections of educational systems and methods, and the imperative need of radical educational reforms. The intense feeling caused by the writings of Dickens prepared the way for the thought of Froebel. Dickens studied Froebel with great care. He was not merely a student of theoretical principles, but he was a very fre- quent visitor to the first kindergarten opened in England. Madame Kraus-Boelte, who assisted Madame RongI in the first kindergarten opened in London, says in a recent letter: "I remember very distinctly the frequent visits made by Mr. Dickens to Madame Rough's kindergarten. Dickens as an Educator 77 He always appeared to be deeply interested, and would sometimes stay during the whole session." The description of the schools of the Stepney Union in "The Uncommercial Traveler" shows how keenly appre- ciative Dickens was of all true new ideals in educational work. These were charity schools conducted on an excel- lent system. The pupils worked at industrial occupations half of their school hours, and studied the other half. They were taught music, and the boys had military drill and naval training. They had no corporal punishment in these schools. Dickens approved most heartily of everything he saw in his frequent visits to the schools of the Stepney Union except the work of one of the younger teachers, who would, in his opinion, have been better "if she had shown more geniality." He commended the industrial work, the mili- tary training, the naval training, the music, the discipline without corporal punishment, and the intellectual bright- ness of the children. He pointed out at some length the difference in interest shown by the pupils in these schools and by the pupils in the school he himself attended when a boy, and drew the conclusion very definitely that shorter hours of study, with a variety of interesting operations, were much better for the physical and intellectual develop- ment of children than long hours spent in monotonous work. The folly and wrong of trying to make children study beyond the fatigue point was never more clearly pointed out than by Dickens in the description of the school he attended when a boy, given as a contrast to the life and brightness and interest shown in the schools of the Stepney Union : "When I was at school, one of seventy boys, •» wonder by what secret understanding our attention began to wan- 78 Education der when we had pored over our books for some hours. I wonder by what ingenuity we brought on that confused state of mind when sense became nonsense, when figures would n't work, when dead languages would n't construe, when Hve languages would n't be spoken, when memory would n't come, when duUness and vacancy would n't go. I can not remember that we ever conspired to be sleepy after dinner, or that we ever particularly wanted to be stupid, and to have flushed faces and hot, beating heads, or to find blank hopelessness and obscmity this afternoon in what would become perfectly clear and bright in the freshness of to-morrow morning. "We siiffered for these things, and they made us miser- able enough. Neither do I remember that we ever bound ourselves, by any secret oath or other solemn obUgation, to find the seats getting too hard to be sat upon after a certain time; or to have intolerable twitches in om- legs, rendering us aggressive and mahcious with those members; or to be troubled with a similar uneasiness in our elbows, attended with fistic consequences to our neighbors; or to carry two pounds of lead in the chest, four pomids in the head, and several active bluebottles in each ear. Yet, for certain, we suffered imder those distresses, and were always charged atl for laboring under them, as if we had brought them on of our own deliberate act and deed." Therefore out of a full heart and an enriched mind Dickens wrought the wonderful plots into which he wove the most advanced educational ideals of his time and of our time relating to the bhghting influence of coercion, the divinity in the child, the recognition of freedom as the truest process and highest aim of education, the value of real sympathy, the importance of self-activity, the true reverence for the child leading to faith in it, the need of child study, the effect of joyousness on the child's develop- Dickens as an Educator 79 ment, the benefits of play, the influence of nutrition, the ideal of community, the importance of the imagination as a basis for the best intellectual growth, the narrowness of utilitarianism, the absolute need of apperceptive centers to which shall be related the progressive enlargement and enrichment of feeling and thought throughout the life of the individual, the arrest of development and the sacrifice of power and Ufe due to cramming, and the weakness of all educational systems and methods that regard fact- storing as the highest work of the teacher. It has been said by critics of Dickens that he exaggerated the defects and errors in the characters of those whom he described. Two things should be kept in mind, however. Dickens usually described the worst, not the best types, and he was justified in reveahng a wrong principle or prac- tice in the strongest possible Ught, in order to make it more easily recognizable and more completely repugnant to the aroused feeling and startled thought of humanity. He was writing with the definite purpose of making the world so thoroughly hate the wrong in education and child training as to lead to definite practical reforms. Dickens himself did not admit the justness of the charge of exaggeration. His coarsest,, most ignorant, and most brutal teacher is Squeers, yet he says "Mr. Squeers and his school are faint and feeble pictures of an existing reaUty, purposely subdued and kept down lest they should be deemed impossible. There are upon record trials at law in which damages have been sought as a poor recom- pense for lasting agonies and disfigiu-ements inflicted upon children by the treatment of the master in these places involving such offensive and foul details of neglect, cruelty, and disease as no writer of fiction would have the boldnees to imagine. Since the author has been engaged upon these Adventiu-es he has received, from private quarters 80 Education far beyond the reach of suspicion or distrust, accounts of atrocities, in the perpetration of which upon neglected or repudiated children these schools have been the main instruments, very far exceeding any that appear in these Dickens discusses the charge of exaggeration in the preface to Martin Chuzzlewit. He says: "What is exaggeration to one class of minds and percep- tions is plain truth to another. That which is commonly called a long sight perceives in a prospect inniunerable features and bearings nonexistent to a shortsighted person. I sometimes ask myself whether there may occasionally be a difference of this kind between some writers and some readers; whether it is always the writer who colors highly, or whether it is now and then the reader whose eye for color is a Uttle dull? "On this head of exaggeration I have a positive experi- ence more curious than the speculation I have just set down. It is this: I have never touched a character pre- cisely from the life but some counterpart of that character has incredulously asked me: 'Now, really, did I ever really see one like it? ' "All the Pecksniff family upon earth are quite agreed, I believe, that Mr. Pecksniff is an exaggeration, and that no such character ever existed." It is worth remembering, too, that it is impossible to exaggerate the description of the effects of the evils Dickens attacked. Coercion in any form blights and dwarfs the true selfhood of the child. The coercion of Mrs. Cris- parkle's placid but unbending will, which she kept rigid from a deep conviction of Christian duty, is as clearly at variance with the elemental laws of individual freedom and growth by self-activity as the more dreadful forms of coer- cion practiced by Squeers, Creakle, Bumble, or Murdstone. Dickens as an Educator 81 Doctor Blimber's cramming is not exaggerated. It would be quite possible to find in England or the United States or Canada not only private but public institutions in which similar processes of illogical cramming are still practiced. Words are still given before the thought, and as a substitute for thought. "Mathematical gooseber- ries" are yet produced "from mere sprouts of bushes," the "words and grammar" of hterature are still given instead of the life and glory of the author's revelations, children yet are "made to bear to pattern somehow or other." Whether Dickens exaggerated or not in regard to other spheres of work, or of existence without work, he certainly did not exaggerate in regard to school conditions. He studied them faithfully, and described them truly. He saw wrongs more clearly than other men, and he made them stand out in their natural hid^ousness. It is frequently asserted that Dickens portrayed wrong training more than right, that he was destructive rather than constructive. In a sense, this is correct. His mis- sion was to startle men, so that they would be made con- scious of the awful crimes that were being conunitted by teachers and parents in the name of duty, as conceived by the highest Christian civilization of his time. He knew that a basis of strong feeling must be aroused against a wrong before it can be overthrown and right practices substituted for it. The only sure foundation for any re- form is an energetic feeling of dislike for present conditions. The chief work of Dickens was to lay bare the injustice, the meanness, and the blighting coercion practiced on help- less children not only by "ignorant, sordid, brutal men called schoolmasters," but in a less degree by the best teachers and parents of his time. His was a noble work, and it was well done. 82 Education The grandest movement of the nineteenth centmy was the development of a profound reverence for the child, so deep and wide that his rights are beginning to be clearly- recognized by individuals and by national laws, and that intelUgent adulthood is studying him as the central element of power in the representation of God in the accomplish- ment of the progressive evolution of the race. Christ put "the child in the midst of his disciples"; men are learning to follow his example, and study the child as the surest way to secure industrial, social, and moral reforms. Froe- bel and Dickens were the men who revealed the child. They were the true apostles of childhood. It must not be supposed that Dickens was not conscious of the positive good while describing the evils. The expressions "child queller," "gospel of monotony," "bear to pattern," "taught as parrots are," etc., and the name "McChoak- umchild," reveal the possession of the highest consciousness of child freedom, of individuality, and of child reverence yet given to humanity. So in all his wonderful pictures it would have been impossible for him to have so vividly described the wrong if he had not clearly understood the right. He had perfect sympathy with childhood, he was a great student of the child and of the existing methods of training and educating him, and his insight and judgment were so clear and true that, as Ruskin says, "in the last analysis he was always right." If he had never written anything but his article on the kindergarten, pubUshed July, 1855, he would have proved himself to be an educational philosopher. KINDERGARTENS! By CHARLES DICKENS IjEVENTY or eighty years ago there wa sa son born to the Pastor Froebel, who exer- cised his calling in the village of Oberweiss- bach, in the principality of Schwartzburg- Rudolstadt. The son, who was called Frederick, proved to be a child of unusually quick sensibilities, keenly a,live to all impressions, hurt by discords of all kinds; by quarreling of men, women, and children, by ill-assorted colors, inharmonious sounds. He was, to a morbid extent, capable of receiving delight from the beauties of Nature, and, as a very little boy, would spend much of his time in studying and enjoying, for their own sake, the lines and angles iu the Gothic architecture of his father's church. Who does not know what must be the central point of all the happiness of such a child? The voice of its mother is the sweetest of sweet sounds, the face of its mother is the fairest of fair sights, the loving touch of her lips is the symbol to it of all pleasures of the sense and of the soul. Against the thousand shocks and terrors that are ready to afflict a child too exquisitely sensitive, the mother is the sole protectress, and her help is all- sufficient. Frederick Froebel lost his mother in the first years of his childhood, and his youth was tortured with incessant craving for a sympathy that was not to be found. The Pastor Froebel was too busy to attend to all the ' From " Household Words," 1855. 83 84 Education little fancies of his son. It was his good practice to be the peaceful arbiter of the disputes occurring in the village, and, as he took his boy with him when he went out, he made the child familiar with all the quarrels of the parish. Thus were suggested, week after week, comparisons between the harmony of Nature and the spite and scandal current among men. A dreamy, fervent love of God, a fanciful boy's wish that he could make men quiet and affectionate, took strong possession of young Frederick, and grew with his advancing years. He studied a good deal. Following out his love of Nature, he sought to become acquainted with the sciences by which her ways and aspects are explained; his con- templation of the architecture of the village church ripened into a thorough taste for mathematics, and he enjoyed agricultural life practically, as a worker on his father's land. At last he went to Pestalozzi's school in Switzerland. Then followed troublous times, and patriotic war in Germany, where even poets fought against the enemy with lyre and sword. The quick instincts, and high, generous impulses of Frederick Froebel were engaged at once, and he went out to battle on behalf of Father- land in the ranks of the boldest, for he was one of Ltitzow's regiment — a troop of riders that earned by its daring an immort9.1 name. Having performed his duty to his country in the ranks of its defenders, Froebel fell back upon his love of nature and his study of triangles, squares, and cubes. He had made interests that placed hiTn in a position which, in many respects, curiously satisfied his tastes — that of Inspector to the Mineralogical Museum in Berlin. The post was lucrative, its duties were agreeable to him, but the object of his life's desire was yet to be attained. Kindergartens 85 For the unsatisfied cravings of his childhood had borne fruit within him. He remembered the quick feeUngs and perceptions, the incessant nimbleness of mind proper to his first years, and how he had been hemmed in and cramped for want of right encouragement and sympathy. He remembered, too, the ill-conditioned people whose dis- putes had been made part of his experience, the dogged children, cruel fathers, sullen husbands, angry wives, quarrelsome neighbors; and surely he did not err when he connected the two memories together. How many men and women go about pale-skinned and weak of limb, because their physical health during infancy and child- hood was not established by judicious management. It is just so, thought Froebel, with our minds. There would be fewer sullen, quarrelsome, dull-witted men or women if there were fewer children starved or fed im- properly in heart and brain. To improve society — to make men and women better — it is requisite to begin quite at the beginning, and to secure for them a whole- some education during infancy and childhood. Strongly possessed with this idea, and feeling that the usual methods of education, by restraint and penalty, aim at the accom- plishment of far too little, and by checking natural devel- opment even do positive mischief, Froebel determined upon the devotion of his entire energj^, throughout his life, to a strong effort for the establishment of schools that should do justice and honor to the nature of a child. He resigned his appointment at Berhn, and threw him- self, with only the resources of a fixed will, a full mind, and a right purpose, on the chances of the future. At'Keilhau, a village of Thuringia, he took a peasant's cottage, in which he proposed to establish his first school — a village boys' school. It was necessary to enlarge the cottage; and, while that was being done, Froebel 86 Education lived on potatoes, bread, and water. So scanty was his stock of capital on which his enterprise was started, that, in order honestly to pay his workmen, he was forced to* carry his principle of self-denial to the utmost. He bought each week two large rye loaves, and marked on them with chalk each day's allowance. Perhaps he is the only man in the world who ever, in so hteral a way, chalked out for himself a scheme of diet. After laboring for many years among the boys at KeUhau, Froebel — married to a wife who shared his zeal, and made it her labor to help to the utmost in carry- ing out the idea of her husband's life — felt that there was more to be accomplished. His boys came to him with many a twist in mind or temper, caught by wrig- gling up through the bewilderments of a neglected infancy. The first sproutings of the human mind need thoughtful culture; there is no period of life, indeed, in which culture is so essential. And yet, in nine out of ten cases, it is precisely while the little blades of thought and buds of love are frail and tender that no heed is taken to maintain the soil about them wholesome, and the air about them free from blight. There must be Infant Gardens, Froebel said; and straightway formed his plans, and set to work for their accompUshment. He had become familiar in cottages with the instincts of mothers, and the faculties with which young children are endowed by Nature. He never lost his own child- hood from memory, and being denied the blessing of an infant of his own, regarded all the little ones with equal love. The direction of his boys' school — ^now flourishing vigorously — he committed to the care of a relation, while he set out upon a tour through parts of Germany and Switzerland to lecture upon infant train- ing and to found Infant Gardens where he could. He I HI z o m a > -t Kindergartens 87 founded them at Hamburg, Leipzig, Dresden, and else- where. While laboring in this way he was always exer- cising the same spirit of self-denial that had marked the outset of his educational career. 'Whatever he could earn was for the children, to promote their cause. He would not spend upon himself the money that would help in the accomplishment of his desire, that childhood should be made as happy as God in his wisdom had designed it should be, and that full play should be given to its energies and powers. Many a night's lodging he took, while on his travels, in the open fields, with an umbrella for his bedroom*and a knapsack for his pillow. So beautiful a self-devotion to a noble cause won recognition. One of the best friends of his old age was the Duchess Ida of Weimar, sister to Queen Adelaide of England, and his death took place on the 21st of June, three years ago (1852) at a country seat of the Duke of Meiningen. He died at the age of seventy, peaceably, upon a summer day, delighting in the beautiful scenery that lay outside his window, and in the flowers brought by friends to his bedside. Nature, he said, bore witness to the promises of revelation. So Froebel passed away. Wise and good people have been endeavoring of late to obtain in this country a hearing for the views of this good teacher, and a trial for his system. Only fourteen years have elapsed since the first Infant Garden was established, and ah-eady Infant Gardens have been intro- duced into most of the larger towns of Germany. Let us now welcome them with all our hearts to England. The whole principle of Froebel's teaching is based on a perfect love for children, and a full and genial recog- nition of their nature, a determination that their hearts shall not be starved for want of sympathy; that since they are by Infinite Wisdom so created as to find happi- 88 Education ness in the active exercise and development of all their faculties, we, who have children round about us, shall no longer repress their energies, tie up their bodies, shut their mouths, and declare that they worry us by the in- cessant putting of the questions which the Father of us all has placed in their mouths, so that the teachable one forever cries to those who undertake to be its guide, "What shall I do?" To be ready at all times with a wise answer to that question ought to be the ambition of every one upon whom a child's nature depends for the means of healthy growth. The frolic of childhood is not pure exuberance and waste. "There is often a high meaning in childish play, " said Froebel. Let us study it, and act upon hints — or more than hints — that Nature gives. They fall into a fatal error who despise all that a child does as frivolous. Nothing is trifling that forms part of a child's life. But enough has already been said to show what he would have done. How would he do it? Of course it must be borne in mind, throughout the following sketch of Froebel's scheme of infant training, that certain qualities of mind are necessary to the teacher. Let nobody suppose that any scheme of education can attain its end, as a mere scheme, apart from the quali- fications of those persons by whom it is to be carried out. Very young children can be trained successfully by no person who wants hearty hking for them, and who can take part only with a proud sense of restraint in their chatter and their play. It is in truth no condescension to become in spirit as a child with children, and nobody is fit to teach the young who holds a different opinion. Unvarying cheerfulness and kindness, the refinement that belongs naturally to a pure, well-constituted woman's Kindergartens 89 mind are absolutely necessary to the management of one of Froebel's Infant Gardens. Then, again, let it be understood that Froebel never wished his system of training to be converted into mere routine to the exclusion of all that spontaneous action in which more than half of every child's education must consist. It was his pm"pose to show the direction in which it was most useful to proceed, how best to assist the growth of the mind by following the indications Nature furnishes. Nothing was farther from his design, in doing that, than the imposition of a check on any whole- some energies. Blindman's buff, romps, puzzles, fairy tales, everything, in fact, that exercises soundly any set of the child's faculties, must be admitted as a part of Froebel's system. The cardinal point of his doctrine is — take care that you do not exercise a part only of the child's mind or body; but take thorough pains to see that you encourage the development of its whole nature. If pains — and great pains — be not taken to see that this is done, prob- ably it is not done. The Infant Gardens are designed to help in doing it. The mind of a young child must not be trained at the expense of its body. Every muscle ought, if possible, to be brought daily into action; and, in the case of a child suffered to obey the laws of Nature by free tumbling and romping, that is done in the best manner possible. Every mother knows that by carrying an infant always on the same arm its growth is Hable to be perverted. Every father knows the child's delight at being vigorously danced up and down, and much of this delight arises from the play then given to its muscles. As the child grows, the most unaccustomed positions into which it can be safely twisted are those from which it will receive 90 Education the greatest pleasure. That is because play is thus given to the muscles in a form they do not often get, and Nature — always watchful on the child's behalf — cries, We will have some more of that. It does us good. As it is with the body, so it is with the mind, and Froebel's scheme of infant education is, for both, a system of gymnastics. He begins with the new-born infant, and demands that, if possible, it shall not be taken from its mother. He sets his face strongly against the custom of commit- ting the child during the tenderest and most impressible period of its whole life to the care and companionship of an ignorant nursemaid, or of servants who have not the mother's instinct, or the knowledge that can tell them how to behave in its presence. Only the mother should, if possible, be the child's chief companion and teacher during at least the first three years of its life, and she should have thought it worth while to prepare herself for the right fulfillment of her duties. Instead of tambour work, or Arabic, or any other use- less thing that may be taught at girl's schools, surely it would be a great blessing if young ladies were to spend some of their time in an Infant Garden, that might be attached to every academy. Let them all learn from Froebel what are the requirements of a child, and be prepared for the wise performance of what is after all to be the most momentous business of their lives. The carrying out of this hint is indeed necessary to the complete and general adoption of the infant-garden • system. Froebel desired his infants to be taught only by women, and required that they should be women as well educated and refined as possible, preferring amiable unmarried girls. Thus he would have our maidens spending some part of their time in playing with little Kindergartens 91 ones, learning to understand them, teaching them to understand; our wives he would have busy at home, making good use of their experience, developing carefully and thoughtfully the minds of their children, sole teachers for the first three years of their life; afterward, either helped by throwing them among other children in an Infant Garden for two or three hours every day, or, if there be at home no lack of little company, having Infant Gardens of their own. Believing that it is natural to address infants in song, Froebel encouraged nursery songs, and added to their number. Those contributed by him to the common stock were of course contributed for the sake of some use that he had for each; in the same spirit — knowing play to be essential to a child — he invented games; and those added by him to the common stock are all meant to be used for direct teaching. It does not in the least follow, and it was not the case, that he would have us make all nursery rhymes and garden sports abstrusely didactic. He meant no more than to put his own teaching into songs and games, to show clearly that whatever is necessary to be said or done to a young child may be said or done merrily or playfully; and although he was essentially a schoolmaster; he had no faith in the terrors commonly associated with his caUing. Froebel's nursery songs are associated almost invari- ably with bodily activity on the part of the child. He is always, as soon as he becomes old enough, to do something while the song is going on, and the movements assigned to him are cunningly contrived so that not even a joint of a little finger shall be left unexercised. If he be none the better, he is none the worse for this. The child is indeed unlucky that depends only on care of this descrip- tion for the full play of its body; but there are some 92 Education children so unfortunate, and there are some parents who will be usefully reminded by those songs of the necessity of procuring means for the free action of every joint and Umb. What is done for the body is done in the same spirit for the mind, and ideas are formed, not by song only. The beginning of a most ingenious course of mental training by a series of playthings is made almost from the very first. A box containing six soft balls, differing in color, is given to the child. It is Froebel's "first gift." Long before it can speak the infant can hold one of these little balls in its fingers, become familiar with its spherical shape and its color. It stands still, it springs, it rolls. As the child grows, he can roll it and run after it, watch it with sharp eyes, and compare the color of oneball with the color of another, prick up his ears at the songs connected with his various games with it, use it as a bond of playfellowship with other children, practice with it first efforts at self-denial, and so forth. One ball is suspended by a string, it jumps — it rolls — here — there — over — up; turns left — turns right — ding-dong — tip-tap — falls — spins; fifty ideas may be connected with it. The six balls, three of the primary colors, three of the secondary, may be built up in a pyramid; they may be set rolling, and used in combination in a great many ways, giving sufficient exercise to the young wits that have all knowledge and experience before them. Froebel's "second gift" is a small box containing a ball, cube, and roller (the last two perforated), with a stick and string. With these forms of the cube, sphere, and cylinder, there is a great deal to be done and learned. They can be played with at first according to the child's own humor: will run, jmnp, represent carts, or anything. Kindergartens 93 The ancient Egyptians, in their young days as a nation, piled three cubes on one another and called them the three Graces. A child will, in the same way, see fishes in stones, and be content to put a cyhnder upon a cube, and say that is papa on horseback. Of this element of ready fancy in all childish sport Froebel took full advantage. The ball, cube, and cylin- der may be spun, swung, rolled, and balanced in so many ways as to display practically all their properties. The cube, spun upon the stick piercing it through opposite edges, will look like a circle, and so forth. As the child grows older, each of the forms may be examined definitely, and he may learn from observation to describe it. The ball may be rolled down an inclined plane and the accel- eration of its speed observed. Most of the elementary laws of mechanics may be made practically obvious to the child's understanding. The "third gift" is the cube divided once in every direction. By the time a child gets this to play with he is three years old — of age ripe for admission to an Infant Garden. The Infant Garden is intended for the help of children between three years old and seven. Instruction in it — always by means of play — is given for only two or three hours in the day; such instruction sets each child, if reasonably helped at home, in the right train of education for the remainder of its time. An Infant Garden must be held in a large room abound- ing in clear space for child's play, and connected with a garden into which the children may adjourn whenever weather will permit. The garden is meant chiefly to assure, more perfectly, the association of wholesome bodily exercise with mental activity. If climate but permitted, Froebel would have all young children taught entirely in the pure, fresh air, while frolicking in sunshine 94 Education among flowers. By his system he aimed at securing for them bodily as well as mental health, and he held it to be unnatural that they should be cooped up in close rooms, and glued to forms, when all their limbs twitch with desire for action, and there is a warm sunshine out of doors. The garden, too, should be their own; every child the master or mistress of a plot in it, sowing seeds and watch- ing day by day the growth of plants, instructed play- fully and simply in the meaning of what is observed. When weather forbids use of the garden, there is the great, airy room which should contain cupboards, with a place for every child's toys and implements; so that a habit of the strictest neatness may be properly maintained. Up to the age of seven there is to be no book work and no ink work; but only at school a free and brisk, but systematic strengthening of the body, of the senses, of the intellect, and of the aflfections, managed in such a way as to leave the child prepared for subsequent in- struction, already comprehending the elements of a good deal of knowledge. We must endeavor to show in part how that is done. The third gift — the cube divided once in every direc- tion — enables the child to begin the work of construc- tion in accordance with its own ideas, and insensibly brings the ideas into the control of a sense of harmony and fitness. The cube divided into eight parts will manufacture many things; and, while the child is at work, helped by quiet suggestion now and then, the teacher talks of what he is about, asks many questions, answers more, mixes up Uttle songs and stories with the play. Pillars, ruined castles, triumphal arches, city gates, bridges, crosses, towers, all can be completed to the perfect satisfaction of a child, with the eight httle cubes. Kindergartens 95 They are all so many texts on which useful and pleasant talk can be established. Then they are capable also of harmonious arrangement into patterns, and this is a great pleasure to the child. He learns the charm of symmetry, exercises taste in the preference of this or that among the himdred combinations of which his eight cubes are susceptible. Then follows the "fourth gift," a cube divided into eight planes cut lengthways. More things can be done with this than with the other. Without strain on the mind, in sheer play, mingled with songs, nothing is wanted but a hberal supply of httle cubes to make clear to the children the elements of arithmetic. The cubes are the things numbered. Addition is done with them; they are subtracted from each other; they are multiphed; they are divided. Besides these four elementary rules they cause children to be thoroughly at home in the principle of fractions, to multiply and divide fractions — as real things; all in good time it will become easy enough to let written figures represent them — to go through the rule of three, square root, and cube root. As a child has instilled into him the principles of arithmetic, so he acquires insensibly the groundwork of geometry, the sister science. Froebel's "fifth gift" is an extension of the third, a cube divided into twenty-seven equal cubes, and three of these fvu-ther divided into halves, three into quarters. This brings with it the teaching of a great deal of geome- try, much help to the lessons in number, magnificent accessions to the power of the little architect, who is provided, now, with pointed roofs and other glories, and the means of producing an almost infinite variety of sym- metrical patterns, both more complex and more beautiful than heretofore. 96 Education The "sixth gift" is a cube so divided as to extend still farther the child's power of combining and discussing it. When its resources are exhausted and combined with those of the "seventh gift" (a box containing every form supplied in the preceding series), the little pupil — seven years old — has had his adventive and artistic powers exercised, and his mind stored with facts that have been absolutely comprehended. He has acquired also a sense of pleasure in the occupation of his mind. But he has not been trained in this way only. We leave out of account the bodily exercise connected with the entire round of occupation, and speak only of the mental discipUne. There are some other "gifts" that are brought into service as the child becomes able to use them. One is a box containing pieces of wood, or pasteboard, cut into sundry forms. With these the letters of the alphabet can be constructed; and, after letters, words, in such a way as to create out of the game a series of pleasant spelhng lessons. The letters are arranged upon a slate ruled into httle squares, by which the eye is guided in preserving regularity. Then follows the gift of a bundle of small sticks which represent so many straight lines; and, by lajdng them upon his slate, the child can make letters, patterns, pictures; drawing, in fact, with lines that have not to be made with pen or pencil, but are provided ready made and laid down with the fingers. This kind of Stick-work having been brought to per- fecti6n, there is a capital extension of the idea with what is called Pea-work. By the help of peas softened in water, sticks may be joined together, letters, skeletons of cubes, crosses, prisms may be built; houses, towers, churches may be constructed, having due breadth as well as length and height, strong enough to be carried Kindergartens 97 about or kept as specimens of ingenuity. Then follows a gift of flat sticks, to be used in plaiting. After that there is a world of ingenuity to be expended on the plait- ing, folding, cutting, and pricking of plain or colored paper. Children five years old, trained in the Infant Garden, will delight in plaiting slips of paper variously colored into patterns of their own invention, and will work with a sense of symmetry so much refined by train- ing as to produce patterns of exceeding beauty. By cutting paper, too, patterns are produced in the Infant Garden that would often, though the work of very Uttle hands, be received in schools of design with acclamation. Then there are games by which the first truths of astronomy, and other laws of Natvu-e, are made as famiUar as they are interesting. For our own parts, we have been perfectly amazed at the work we have seen done by children of six or seven — bright, merry creatures, who have all the spirit of their childhood active in them, repressed by no parent's selfish love of ease and silence, cowed by no dull-witted teacher of the ABC and the pothooks. Froebel discourages the cramping of an infant's hand upon a pen, but his slate ruled into little squares, or paper prepared in the same way, is used by him for easy train- ing in the elements of drawing. Modeling in wet clay is one of the most important occupations of the children who have reached about the sixth year, and is used as much as possible, not merely to encourage imitation, but to give some play to the creative power. Finally, there is the best possible use made of the paint-box, and children engaged upon the coloring of pictures and the arrangement of nosegays are further taught to enjoy, not merely what is bright, but also what is harmonious and beautiful. THOMAS ARNOLD AS A TEACHER By SAMUEL ELIOT ^F he is elected to the headmastership of Rugby," wrote one of Arnold's friends in the year 1827, "he will change the face of educa- tion all through the pubUc schools of Eng- land." High-sounding prediction, and yet fulfilled to the letter. "A most singular and striking change," wrote another friend of Arnold, after his death in 1842, "has come upon our public schools," the writer being the head master of Winchester school. "I am sure that to Dr. Arnold's personal earnest simpUcity of purpose, strength of character, power of influence, and piety, which none who ever came near him could mistake or question, the carrying of this improvement into our schools is mainly attributable." Such a reformer can not be too frequently or too widely studied. Often as he may have been portrayed, there still remain fresh Uneaments, untried attitudes, in which he may be represented by a new limner. Nor will the effect of his reforms be found confined within the limits of his own land or nation. The EngUsh schools are not American, nor are the American schools EngUsh in points of constitution, operation, or varying detail; but the re- former of one order of schools will be found closely aUied to the reformer of the other order; whUe it is even truer that the great teacher in England is as much a study to every teacher in America as if he had labored on this side of the Atlantic. Thomas Arnold was born at "West Cowes, Isle of Wight, 98 Thomas Arnold as a Teacher 99 in the year 1795. The loss of his father, before he was six years old, left him dependent upon his mother and his aunt, the latter taking charge of his early education. Placed at school, first in Warminster and then in Winchester, he laid the foundations, as a schoolboy, of the knowledge and the system which he afterward carried out as a mas- ter. He was a stiff and formal lad, "unlike those of his own age," said his family and schoolfellows, "and with peculiar piursuits of his own," in which play writing and ballad poetry, geography and history, were particularly remarked. Arnold won little distinction as a scholar: fonder of philosophy and history than of the regular routine of study; quick to take up geology as soon as there was a professor to assist him; ready for a walk, or what he called a skirmish, across the country at any time; he grew up a young man of large tastes and of aspiring principles, but without preciseness or fullness of development. Future development, however, was so clearly promised in his case that he obtained a fellowship in Oriel College over several competitors of actual superiority. He remained at Oxford four years more, — a period of evident progress, — occupied in private instruction and in extensive read- ing, in the course of which many of his later principles in education, Uterature, and religion were unquestionably grasped if not positively matured. At length, in his twenty-sixth year, he removed to Laleham as a private teacher, and began (1819) the great career which we are to follow. "I came to Rugby," was his remark, "full of plans for school reform; but I soon found that the reform of a pub- lic school was a much more difficult thing than I had im- agined. ' ' But there was no shrinking ; on the contrary, the earnestness and the rapidity with which the head master 100 Education pressed on were such as to excite apprehensions even on the part of his friends, while they who doubted or opposed his course broke out into objections and menaces suffi- cient to shake the resolution of a less resolute man. Arnold was strong, however, both in the principles which led him to reform and in those which guided him in reform. There was nothing indiscriminate or turbulent in his movements. "Another system," he said in reference to the constitution of the school, "may be better in itself, but I am placed in this system, and am bound to try what I can make of it." So, without attempting to overthrow, Arnold continued his efforts to repair and to uprear, with a degree of consider- ateness and of prudence remarkable in one so ardent and so determined. "That 's the way," wrote one of his pupils, "that all the doctor's reforms have been carried out when he has been left to himself, — quietly and naturally; put- ting a good thing in the place of a bad, and letting the bad die out; no wavering and no hurry, — the best thing that could be done for the time being, and patience for the rest." "What a sight it is," writes one of the Rugby men, — "the doctor as a ruler." It was the first and the chief as- pect in which he appeared to his pupils. He was not merely the master but the head master, the presiding spirit of the establishment, the source of law and authority, of honor and dishonor. It was often said of Arnold that he was born to be a statesman. Of all the signs to this effect, above his writings, above his exertions as a citizen, his administration of Rugby School may be safely set down as the most remarkable. The school was a state on a small scale; its magistrates the masters, its citizens the three hundred pupils; each with his own tastes, his own powers, his own circumstances; not easily managed by himself, and much less easily directed in the midst of his Thomas Arnold as a Teacher 101 two hundred and ninety-nine associates. No state was ever better ruled on the whole; none was more carefully guarded from evil and shame; none more consistently guided to nobleness and truth. Higher still was the position of Arnold as the chaplain of the school. When this office fell vacant, a year or two after he joined the school, he asked it from the trustees on the ground that, as head master, he was "the real and proper religious instructor of the boys." Pray let it be remarked before we go further, that he did not make his rehgious instructions depend upon his being in the chaplaincy. He had begun to preach to the boys, as well as to give a religious tone to his daily teach- ings, from the very first year of his mastership; and what he began he continued. Nay, more; he would not make his instructions in rehgious matters depend even on his being a clergyman. Had he been a layman, he would not have preached so often, but he certainly would have ad- dressed the boys on their Christian duties from time to time; while the religious atmosphere of his own recitation room would have been quite as constant and quite as effective. "The business of a schoolmaster, no less than that of a parish minister, is the cure of souls." This was a frequent expression with him. In this spirit, and not merely in that of a clerical functionary, he assumed the chaplain's office. But it was not in preaching alone, as we have said, that Arnold gave religious instruction to his pupils. ' ' No direct instruction," says one of them, "could leave on their minds a livelier image of his disgust at moral evil than the black cloud of indignation which passed over his face when speaking of the crimes of Napoleon or of Csesar, and the dead pause which followed, as if the acts had just been committed in his very presence. No expression of 102 Education his reverence for a high standard of Christian excellence could have been more striking than the ahnost involuntary- expressions of admiration which broke from him when- ever mention was made of St. Louis of France." So through all the studies under his direction there streamed the ray of Ught from his own lofty faith, break- ing in upon the darkest passages of history or of Uterature, bringing out all the brighter ones, and aiding those who sat beholding to a faith as lofty and as illumining as that of their master. It would be doing great injustice to Arnold to pass by the relations between him and his assistant teachers. One ,of his noblest reforms was to raise the position of the imder- masters from that of httle better than menials to that of trusted and honored associates in instruction. He in- creased their salaries, exalted their services, establishing an altogether new connection between them and the boys under their charge, and giving them all the credit that they deserved, never engrossing it for himself, but rather rejoicing when it was so entirely theirs that boys came, as he thought, to receive their instructions rather than his own. "I am more and more thankful," is the language attrib- uted to one of them, "every day of my life, that I came here to be under him." "I think," he wrote himself, "I have a right to look rather high for the man whom I fix upon [for a vacant mastership], and it is my great object to get here a society of intelligent, gentlemanly, and active men, who may permanently keep up the character of the school." Admirable as Arnold was in many respects, he was in none more admirable than in this consideration for his assistants; in none, certainly, was he more different from the great majority of principals, who, if they really regard their subordinates in any other Ught than that of 70 c a m ■< cn n X o o r Thomas Arnold as a Teacher 103 instruments to promote their own interest, do themselves gross injustice. Simple policy ought to teach them better ; simple honesty ought to open their hands and their hearts in favor of those whom they are wont so much to wrong. Arnold's exertions as a teacher were not confined to schools or to universities. He interested himself in the proceedings of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, saying and doing what he could to persuade that body to give a more decidedly Christian tone to their publications. He went out as a lecturer, and spoke to the Mechanics' Institute at Rugby on the Divisions and Mutual Relations of Knowledge, an address which he pub- hshed in order "to serve," as he said, "the cause of adult education." He took part as a journalist, and started a weekly newspaper, the "Enghshman's Register," it being his desire to give his countrymen religious and pohtical instruction, of which, in a time of great pubhc excitement, they seemed never to have had greater need. In the midst of these varied works, no one of them ap- parently completed, Arnold suddenly died on the day preceding his forty-seventh birthday, June 12, 1842. Early, however, as the earthly existence of Arnold was ended, it did not need a year or a day to be complete; for he died just when his Ufe had been brought to such a point that the memory of its exertions and of its achieve- ments would be sure to last, sure to inspire even greater exertions and greater achievements in the future. There was, or is, nothing so great about this man as the example which he left, — an example which could not prevail as extensively and as beneficently in life as after death. Read that example aright, and the teacher who would be one in deed as well as in name will learn two truths of inestimable moment. One is, that the teacher must be a Christian, not merely 104 Education a Christian man but a Christian teacher; that he must see nothing so great, devote himself to nothing so entirely, as to the religion that constitutes at once the foundation, the substance, and the crown of education. There is to be nothing vague about his convictions, nothing superficial about his teachings as a Christian instructor; he is to know what reUgious instruction means, and in what it consists; he is to seek it and to give it in the simplest and in the vast- est studies, amid the Hspings of the child and the maturer utterances of the man. If public opinion or the senti- ments of his own society are against him, he must be strong; place must be resigned, emoluments sacrificed, ease and facile labors exchanged for trials and wearing anxieties, rather than that he falter for one instant in his allegiance. If fail he must, he will not, he can not, alto- gether fail; he will have taught himself, if he has taught none besides, that the true scholar is the true Christian; that the real man of intellect is the real man of heart; loftier intellectually because lofty spiritually; profounder in the learning that is of man because profound in the learning that is of God. The other truth involved in Arnold's example is this, — that the teacher must be more than a mere teacher. If teaching is the end, there must be something besides teaching for the means. It is not necessary to be precisely what Arnold was, — a theologian and a historian, a master of a school and a professor in a university; it is given to few to enter upon spheres so various and so wide. But there must be no clinging to a single spot or to a single office; no dependence upon any one work as the solitary employment of the teacher's days. He must be a student, he must be a writer, or a man of public relations; he must be learning if he would teach, and living a life of service to men if he would live one of service to his pupils. ALCOTT AS A PIONEER EDUCATORS By ANNIE RUSSELL MARBLE JRONSON ALCOTT has not as yet received the full appreciation which belongs to his memory. In the collective criticism given to the Transcendentalists, among whom he was ranked as a high priest, in the humorous com- ments upon his futile schemes and his uninteUigible sentences, Alcott, the educator, the pioneer promoter of modern reforms in aim and methods, has been under- estimated. The long Ufe, from November, 1799, to March, 1888, encountered more vicissitudes than prosperity, more de- feats than progress in the worldly view, yet his earnest efforts for educational reform bore fruit even in his life- time, and have become, often unconsciously, the models of many a pedagogue in the later days of child study. His epithet, accredited to Emerson, "The tedious Arch- angel," should have less permanence in the public mind to-day than the more just encomium of "The American Pestalozzi." Alcott's tastes as a scholar were derived from his good birth rather than from any early opportunities for cul- tm-e. To his mother he attributed his own sunny temper and unfailing faith, as well as his love for books and refining influences. Denied the college education which he craved, the four years spent in Virginia and con- tiguous provinces, peddling small wares and canvassing for chilci'en's books among the gentry of the Southern ' By kind permission of the Palmer Company. Copyright, 1893. 105 106 Education estates, left indelible marks upon his aspirations, and gave to him those graces of manner which won the admiration of foreign as well as American friends. Re- turning to his Connecticut home in 1825, after illness had interfered with financial gain and sturdy habits, he decided to seek a position as schoolmaster near his home. The erratic schooling of early years had been supplemented by reading of the best English authors and by observant, studious hours during the first three years of his travels. His uncle, Dr. Bronson, was master of the Cheshire Academy, and through this in- fluence the young man gained an appointment to the Center District School of Cheshire and began the work of educational reform which was to wield such influence upon his later life and the tone of the community. Pubhc school education was in its throes of infancy with no weak opposition among some of the most cul- tured men of the age. The words of a college professor in 1826 are quoted as indicative of the sentiment in Con- necticut and her neighbor states against any progressive ideas for elementary schools: "The money appropriated for common schools ought to be apphed to better pm-- poses, — to the support of colleges. Little good can ever be done in common schools." Facing such obstacles of opinion, with a brief experi- ence in schools at Bristol and Wolcott, the teacher began his work with courage and enthusiasm. He has said that he followed the old methods at first, then gradually introduced iiis new ideas for the mental and moral better- ment of his pupils. Of the actual principles of Pesta- lozzi and his followers he was almost wholly ignorant at this time, yet he appHed many of the methods of the Swiss reformer without realizing the resemblance. His first care was to improve the physical environment of the Alcott as a Pioneer Educator 107 school. In place of the cramped benches and heavy routine he expended some of his own income in provid- ing more comfortable chairs, and allowed space around the stove where the children could practice hght gym- nastics and "play games" under his direction. He estabUshed a school library, — then indeed a novelty, — and permitted the use of the books by the members of the pupils' families. Adopting the Pestalozzian theory that the child's mind may be best developed by exercising his faculties directly and making appeal to his sensations and con- ceptions, Alcott utilized the modes of questions and analysis which later distinguished his Boston school. His second principle was the education of the moral sense in matters of school discipline. To the conster- nation of the visitors and many of the parents, he abol- ished corporal punishment, then regarded as the acme of successful teaching, and estabHshed a jury among the scholars to decide cases of wrongdoing. This Cheshire school began to attract curiosity far and near. A few sympathizers were found and an occa- sional note of approbation was sounded. Such appeared in the " Boston Recorder " for May 14, 1827, quoting a Connecticut writer: "There is one school of a superior or improved kind, viz., Mr. A. B. Alcott's school in Chesh- ire — the best conamon school in this state, perhaps in the United States." Despite such rare praise, however, the teacher met growing opposition among his neighbors, to whom, he says, "the fear of innovation hangs like an incubus upon every measure of improvement." When he ventured to ask for more money for changes in the schoolroom the Yankee penuriousness, which has not been wholly eradicated in matters of school expenditure, submerged all pride in the school. Not only were his 108 Education demands denied, but a rival school was opened in accord with the established, stilted methods of the past, and after two years of experiment and unselfish effort Alcott found further persistence useless. If his brief service seemed a failure to the average resident, there were a few progressive souls who echoed the prophecy, "The public mind is sufficiently awake to make something grow out of what has been effected." Alcott's school at Cheshire had won the attention of the Rev. Samuel J. May, among other noted thinkers of the time, and from this acquaintance resulted not alone the later successful ventures in Boston but also the friendship and marriage with Miss May, whose devotion and efficiency saved the Alcott homestead from many a threatened collapse. With justice the aged husband might poetize of this noble woman. If fortune smiled and late-won liberty, 'T was thy kind favor all, thy generous legacy. After an unsuccessful attempt at teaching in Bristol, Connecticut, where his Cheshire enemies prevented sympathy, Alcott accepted the suggestion of the May family, and in the summer of 1828 went to Boston and established the infant school which chronicled his initial effort there. After two years of moderate success and widening influence he was married and left Boston to fulfill the wishes of some Philadelphia friends that he should have a school in Germantown. The plan was outlined that Mr. Alcott should teach the children up to the age of nine years and then promote them to a school by his friend and colaborer, Mr. Russell, whose "Journal of Education" was one of the most effective agencies of educational progress for many years. Although the arrangements were not fully perfected, Alcott as a Pioneer Educator 109 the Alcotts were very happy in their Philadelphia home, and the educator found a new joy in recording the sen- suous and mental phenomena of the first child born in their home. In his school of ten pupils he continued the methods of physical exercises, conversations, and read- ing from allegorical or fanciful tales. He wrote: "Noth- ing is presented them without first making it interesting to them, and thus securing their voluntary attention. They are made happy by taking an interest in their own progress and pursuits." The proposed school in Phila- delphia failed to gain firm hold, and in the autumn of 1834 Alcott had returned to Boston and opened his famous school in Masonic Temple. For a time he was the educational hero of the hour, was compared to Mil- ton, and extolled by reformers and faddists alike. The thirty pupils in 1834 increased for two years, and then, by public misinterpretation coupled with a coura- geous position regarding the attendance of a colored child at the school, the popularity waned, until the school closed in 1839. These five years, however, with Mr. Alcott's fearless, persistent course of teaching, left impress upon the educational world that can not be obscured. In a survey of the advance during the last two decades in aim and method, in considering the stress now placed upon the imaginative and moral faculties of the child, one may read potent echoes of the ideas which dominated the Alcott school. Two books have re- mained as authoritative expression of the principles and modes of teaching, — "The Record of a School," edited by Miss EUzabeth Peabody, and "Conversations on the Gospels," conducted by Mr. Alcott with his youthful pupils. The former volume gained great favor with the public and has been reprinted three times, if not more. The latter became the snare which entrapped the phi- 110 Education losopher-teacher and caused the first attack from press and pulpit. Readers of "Little Men" and their experiences in Plumfield school are often unfamiliar with the origin of this strange experience. In the preface to the third edition of Miss Peabody's "Record," published in 1874, Miss Alcott, then a famous author, wrote in explanation and tribute: "The methods of education so successfully tried in the Temple long ago are so kindly welcomed now — even the very imperfect hints in the story — that I cannot consent to receive the thanks and conamenda- tions due to another. Not only is it a duty and a pleasure, but there is a certain fitness in making the childish fiction of the daughter play the grateful part of herald to the wise and beautiful truths of the father, — truths which, for thirty years, have been silently, help- fully living in the hearts and memories of the pupils, who never have forgotten the influences of that time and teacher." A brief review of some of the plans and accomplish- ments recorded by Miss Peabody from day to day may be interesting, and prove the justice of accrediting Mr. Alcott with many ideas which have slowly permeated liie world of education until now they are an unques- tioned part of the program of school life. As in former experiences, primal stress was laid upon the surround- ings of the child. To make these attractive and com- fortable, quiet, and stimulating to the imagination and taste, was the teacher's care, — an idea fully established to-day, but regarded as waste of money and thought fifty years ago. The room, with its spacious, well- lighted effect, its bookcases and casts, — that of Christ in the most conspicuous place, had also bvists of Plato, Socrates, Shakespeare, Milton, and Scott, while on a Alcott as a Pioneer Educator 111 prominent pedestal before the Gothic window stood " Silence," with his finger up, as if he were saying " Beware. " Comfortable desks and movable tablets were arranged around the room, at sufficient distances to remove the temptation for whispering. On the first day of school Mr. Alcott awakened the attention and stimulated both the mental and moral faculties by his favorite mode of questions, — "What was the purpose of coming to school?" "To learn what?" — imtil he had evolved the answer that they came "to learn to feel rightly, to think rightly, and to act rightly." This conversation was illustrated with anecdotes and suppositions fitted to their intelligence, and Miss Pea- body has recorded the success of the experiment: "Simple as all this seems, it would hardly be beUeved what an evident exercise it was to the children to be led of themselves to form and express these conceptions and few steps of reasoning. Every face was eager and interested. From right actions the conversation natur- ally led into the means of bringing them out. And the necessity of feeling in earnest, of thinking clearly, and of school discipline was talked over." The unique mode of punishment in the school, the vicarious inffiction of this upon the teacher by the offend- ing pupil, was the subject for many a jest during the days of persecution which followed. While such a method could scarcely be recommended for large schools of general character, the subtle influence of the principle involved seemed most potent in the Alcott school. Miss Peabody devoted much space to the recital of this phase of the school life, emphasizing the keen shame and conscience, as well as the passing embarrassment, developed among the pupils by this appeal to their feelings and higher qualities : 112 Education "Boys who had never been affected before, and to whom bodily punishment was a very small affair, as far as its pain was concerned, were completely sobered. There was a more complete silence, attention, and obedience than there had ever been. And the only exceptions, which were experiments, were rigidly noticed. Mr. Alcott, in two instances, took boys into the ante- room to do it. They were very imwiUing, and at first they did it Ughtly. He then asked them if they thought that they deserved no more pimishment than that. And so they were obliged to give it hard; but it was not without tears, which they never had shed when punished themselves. 'This is the most complete pim- ishment that a master ever invented,' was the observa^ tion of one of the boys at home; 'Mr. Alcott has secm"ed obedience now; there is not a boy in school but what would a great deal rather be punished himself than pimish him.' A new sense of the worth and importance of that for which he was willing to suffer pain seemed to spring up all aroimd, while the imquestionable gener- osity of it was not only understood but felt to be con- tagious." Ever emphasizing his lessons by means of "the pic- tured forms of things," reading daily from the best imaginative and moral tales, — "Pilgrim's Progress," "Faerie Queen," Krummacher's "Parables," and kindred books, — spending much time upon the analysis of words and concepts, the teacher inculcated within the pupil's minds the real meaning of such words and qualities as love, faith, conscience, affection, aspiration, insight, and will. Individual journals were required and the few surviving scholars of this and later experi- ments after Mr. Alcott's model cherish these journals as the most precious and illuminating of life records. Alcott as a Pioneer Educator 113 The curriculum of this school included Latin, geog- raphy, arithmetic, geometry, and composition, in addi- tion to the special emphasis upon reading and writing from the best English classics. Illustrations from natxire formed no small part of the day's program, another example of the progressive trend of the school. To cultivate individual imagination, and by natural means foster intellect, to estabhsh moral traits in each pupil, to maintain a common conscience and a common courtesy in the school, were among the fundamental aims in the teacher's plan. The result was frankly told and reiterated by Miss Peabody after many years of retro- spect and widening scope of educational ideas: "General intelhgence, order, self-control, and good will have been produced to a degree that is marvelous to see; especially when we consider that his scholars' ages range from three years to twelve, and none are older, and most of them only eight or nine years old." It was one of Mr. Alcott's fundamental principles that knowledge or instinct must be educed slowly and affectionately, and that education in its primal stages can thus be achieved far better than by compulsory instruction. He said: "A child is injured only by his mind's being forcibly bent in a direction in which it does not move naturally; by being forced to attend to what does not interest it." Such words convey a mere axiom of present-day education, but they were regarded as iconoclastic, if not heretical, in 1837, when the tread- mill process and the birch constituted the popular mode of teaching. The tide of opposition became too strong for further resistance. Instances of Alcott's inconsequent business habits, examples of his impracticabihty, could always be adduced, and furnished ground for the sneer which is more 114 Education destructive than the open criticism. With character- istic courage he persisted in retaining the negro girl among his scholars, thus throwing down the gauntlet as proof of his later abolitionist zeal, and this cost him many pupils from the aristocratic famihes. After two years of waning favor and financial deficit, he abandoned the school. We are not here concerned with the subsequent experiments and discoixragements of the next few years — the "Conversations" in Boston and Concord; the commun- istic sojoiu-n in "Fruitlands," at Harvard, Massachusetts, well portrayed from its humorous aspect by Miss Alcott in "Transcendental Wild Oats"; the attempt at farm life in Concord; the wanderings of the family, often amid real poverty, until the wife's matchless efficiency and the daughter's keen Uterary faculty had brought hope out of failiu-e and estabhshed the family in comfort. The last years of Alcott's life were brightened by many a proof of his recognition. Probably he never had a prouder moment, in a sordid sense, than when he re- turned from one of his later lectiire tours in the West and turned over one thousand dollars into the family exchequer. Attracted by reverence for his noble charac- ter and ideals, or curious to experience contact with his unique personality, visitors came from many locaUties to that famous Concord Summer School of Philosophy which he estabhshed in 1879. There were two episodes in his later life that concern his influence as an educator. Well do they testify to the reaction from his persecution in 1838. The first was the visit to England and his honors there among English educators and social reformers. In Emerson's "Dial" for October, 1842, is a detailed account of this visit, especially the conference at the school named for him, Alcott House, Ham, Surrey, under the management of Alcott as a Pioneer Educator 115 Mr. H. G. Wright. This gentleman, with his associate reformers, Charles Lane, James Pierpont Greaves, and Heraud, names famihar to the readers of the letters of Thoreau and Alcott, were earnest advocates of social as well as educational advance, and they rejoiced in Alcott's idealism. Like Greaves, he was a promulgator of Pestalozzian methods, placing stress on the imagi- nation, heart and soul rather than on the memory and textual modes, while inculcating thoughts of God, rever- ence and love by questions to educe the innate image. During the later years of Alcott's active life he was closely identified with the schools of Concord, while his suggestions and advice were covirted increasingly by educators throughout the country. The prophecies of early adherents were showing signs of fulfillment. The published report of the school committee of Con- cord for 1860 gives one an opportunity to meet, on familiar terms, this benignant man, acting as superin- tendent of the district schools of his home region and finding joy and inspiration in his service. With typical kindUness he records the successes of each teacher, and excuses any failures on "exhibition days" on the ground of shyness before visitors. A few brief excerpts from his report will best portray the noble nature and the pro- gressive ideas of this pioneer American educator: "My visits have been rare opportunities for becom- ing acquainted with the children in the several districts. The privilege has been esteemed a pleasure, and I have wished I had more than the half day's time to give to each school." Speaking of the value of stories and parables as means of gaining the most complete atten- tion, he passes on to commend singing and song-plays: '"Let us sing' has the welcome sound of 'Let us play,' and is, perhaps, the child's prettiest translation of 'Let 116 Education us pray,' admitting him soonest to the intimacy he seeks." There is special pertinence in the report from the East Primary School: "Mrs. Emerson has interested herself in this school. The children have received New Year's gifts annually at her house across the street, and the flower-beds were laid out and set by her hands. These outdoor pleasures are a part of early culture, and the cheapest part of it; they are so insinuating and available, so consonant to Natiu-e's ways, and so wholesome." With yet more emphasis we note the sequential words upon the kindergarten: "The German Kinder Garten," or child's garden system, recently introduced into Eng- land, is attracting attention with us. It is the happiest play-teaching ever thought of and the child's " Paradise Regained" for those who have lost theirs. It must prevail with the spread of love and the kingdom come in sancti- fied souls." MARY LYON^ By JEANNETTE MARKS T Gloucester in the last decade of the eight- eenth century a resolution was passed that two hours out of the eight hours of daily in- struction be devoted to girls, "as they are a tender and interesting branch of the community, but have been much neglected in the public schools in this town" — indeed, much neglected up to that time in every town. In the New England tradition education had been looked upon as a necessity; it had seemed to men a fundamental condition for right living. Behind an ineradicably demo- cratic spirit, never at all general in the South, lay Puritan conviction not only of the worth of an individual soul, but also of the importance of a man's knowledge and thought, for which training was provided in the common school. Two hundred years after the establishment of Harvard College there was no college for women, who were still reckoned largely according to their economic value in the conmaunity, a necessity in colonial days, but, with greater internal resom-ces, more service at command, and the ad- vent of the factory, ceasing to be such a necessity. The father who considered his daughter's education as impor- tant as his son's for the welfare of the family was then unknown; the father who put his son to work and gave his daughter the distinctively literary training would have seemed to our seventeenth and eighteenth centiu-y ances- tors derelict — as it may be he really would be. The men of a family, according to good EngUsh usage, bore the ' By permission of the Author and " The Outlook." Copyright, 1906. 117 118 Education responsibilities of culture; now these responsibilities are often in the keeping of mother and sister and daughter. Before* the close of the first quarter of the nineteenth cen- tury but few efforts had been made to give women even the rudiments of education, — reading and writing, if need be, — efforts which may be designated as fairly unsuccessful. The royal founding of Mo\mt Holyoke, two himdred years from the date of Harvard's estabhshment, lay in the generous, undaunted heart of a woman. It had, in com- mon with the greater institutions for men, New England traditions of piety, learning, sturdiness, and the best quaU- ties of good New England blood. Previous to this there had been Dame Schools, mothers' helpers, so to speak, for very Mttle children; academies which prepared boys for college, sometimes admitting girls for an hour or so, or, as in the instance of South Byfield and other academies, being co-educational; and the public schools, which had made, in general, no adequate provision for this "tender and interesting branch of the community." The movement for the higher education of women began about 1820 with the Rev. Joseph Emerson at Byfield. Later came the Enama WUlard School, still a school in excellent standing, and the Catharine Beecher Seminary at Hartford, which was given up with the removal of Miss Beecher to the West. In the South there were sev- eral early efforts towards the higher education of women; these schools, prosperous till the time of the Civil War, have since then deteriorated. It was for Mary Lyon, the founder of Mount Holyoke Seminary, to solve the prob- lem of a school for young women which should not be the plaything of circimastance. Mary Lyon's ideal was to establish a permanent, endowed institution, which was "designed to be furnished with every advantage that the state of education in this country wiU allow." Mary Lyon 119 This was no idle castle-building on her part, foi the robust, rosy-cheeked, curly-haired, blue-eyed yoiing woman knew the hard facts to be faced with any such scheme in mind. As early as 1814 she had begun her teaching career at seventy-five cents a week and "boarded round "; she taught up and down the Connecticut Valley, was well known, well Mked, and in great demand. All her experience but made her realize more fully how far short the opportunities for girls fell of the substantial education which she had in mind. Limited, naturally, by the times, hers was, nevertheless, a collegiate ideal, as the clause in the first circular of the school reveals: "We intend it to be, like our colleges, so valuable that the rich will be glad to attend it, and so economical that people in moderate cir- cumstances may be equally accommodated." As in all colleges of that day and of to-day, Holyoke students then as well as now received more than that for which they paid. Her object, too, was the highest object of the highest education: to meet public and not private wants — to serve the country. The opening curriculiun exceeded in advancement and breadth of subject any courses offered in any schools elsewhere; it included, among other studies, logic, moral philosophy, ancient and modern history, and the natural sciences taught according to the laboratory method. At the time Harvard was, I think, the only other institution teaching science in this fashion. But it was the first entrance requirements that caused the most serious flutter. The "young ladies," not unlike other young ladies of to-day, were in despair at such high requirements ; to enter Mount Holyoke they were obliged to pass in arithmetic, geography, history, English grammar, and Watts's "On the Mind" — especially Watts's "On the Mind." Nevertheless, the second year four hundred applicants were turned away because there was 120 Education not room to accommodate them, and from that day to this the demands have been in excess of room at the institu- tion's command. The Seminary opened its doors in 1837; fifty-one years later it became Mount Holyoke Seminary and College, and in 1893 was chartered as a college only. For several years previous to the opening, Mary Lyon had faced the problem of collecting an endowment. She met with opposition, in- difference, even discourtesy; but she met with friends, too. One good gentleman, a minister at Cummington, gave up his pastorate, unblessed by his congregation for so doing, and became Mary Lyon's agent in soliciting funds. "Pa" Hawks, as the students named him, held a new — perhaps to call it old would be more apt — argument in favor of the higher education of women ; he thought that, as woman had been the occasion of the fall, she ought to have the highest possible education to undo the ill effects of the fatal apple. Here is another argument against the present opponents of the higher education, invincible this time, for man has never been known to contest the apple. In sums ranging from six cents, in three cases, upwards, they collected twenty-seven thousand dollars for the first building, an amount representing eighteen hundred subscribers. Deacon Safford, a prosperous Boston merchant, was one of the early promoters of the institution. He repeated his first gift, five hundred dollars, a generous sum for those days, many times, and he considered his investment, as did many of Mount Holyoke's friends, the best he had ever made; for, he said, there was "no depreciation in the stock; it yields the largest dividends." The early hall, built, as its founder wished, of the best material, provided with the best plumbing and heating the times could give, nevertheless, in Puritan wise, made Mary Lyon 121 but little of the outer aspect. Yet, as in the case of a New England church, it had a character of its own, quaint and not unattractive. To-day the seventeen main build- ings form a unified impression uncommon among our American colleges — buildings, largely Enghsh Collegiate and Tudor in style, divided into two campuses; the residen- tial and the academic. Some of these buildings seem a part of the earth in which they stand — than this uruty there is no severer architectural test. There were two things Mary Lyon announced, with a twinkle in her eye, the "young ladies" were not to do while at Mount Holyoke; one was break the fire regulations, the other kill themselves. If they insisted upon killing them- selves, she continued, then they would better go home and die in the arms of their dear mothers. The early school had much ill health to combat, for the poor health of the women of the late eighteenth century and the early nine- teenth century is something appalhng as one looks back from the robust womanhood of the present. One physi- cian of the first quarter of the nineteenth century said that not one woman in ten enjoyed complete health. It was Mary Lyon's aim to correct this; and so well did she succeed in making a beginning that if there is any- thing the matter with nine-tenths of the present college students they do not know it. They are so busy with walking, basket ball, hockey, snowshoeing, and skeeing, that they do not spend time in imagining ills they have not. One has to read the psychological tracts of faddists before one is fully aware of the lugubrious, anaemic straits to which, these tracts say, college girls are reduced. The antidote to this deplorable condition of educated womanhood which the psychologists advocate, critics to the contrary, Holyoke has never possessed. She has never had any teaching or system of domestic science. 122 Education The founder had most uncommon good sense: she had no notion of reheving mothers and home life of their duties. Mary Lyon wrote: "I have no faith in any of the schemes of manual labor by which it is supposed that girls can sup- port themselves at school. I should expect anything of that kind would become anexpenserather than anincome." There was in the old days no service to be obtained in South Hadley, and, too, it made the expenses somewhat less for the students to do a httle household work. At first seventy minutes for each student covered all the work that was reqiiired; now an average of less than thirty min- utes is sufficient. Although the writer thinks even thirty minutes daily for four years might be more advantageously spent in golf, in skeeing, or at a concert, yet the prescribed domestic work has its advantages. It maintains a level of admirable democracy; it is good for the rich girl; it does no harm to the poor girl who is accustomed to more than is required at college. It creates a certain helpful, unself- ish, friendly spirit. Personally, I enjoyed myself immensely as a Freshman at Wellesley diuing the last year of domestic work at that college, when I sold ink and mucilage on a shding scale, an experience which seems to me now in retrospect even more valuable than a condition. At Holyoke all the heavy work is done by servants; no student is allowed in the kitchen; practically the flourish of duster and pen describes the arc of domestic duties. "Everything I do is such a privilege!" 'exclaimed the founder; and I am certain that the old girls thought the dusting and bedmaking, or "just taking a step from the fourth floor down to the basement," part of an idyllic scheme for their advancement. There was no satiety then to dull the eyes and stuff the minds with a sense of indiffer- ence, nor is there now. One old alumna writes that not Mary Lyon 123 even the side step in calisthenics had proved useless to her; doubtless she has come upon the day of the automobile, and we all know the joys of the "side step" nowadays. Eager is the word that characterized the mind of the founder, and eager is the word that marks the spirit of the present college. Fifty years before its actual inclusion in the curriculum Mary Lyon was seeking a way to provide Hebrew. Seventy years ago, when there were no stand- ards for the education of women, Mary Lyon set a stand- ard which in its broad purpose is not yet realized. The founder would have resented indignantly any attempt to limit her mind between the covers of a book, that mind which could master the' contents of a Latin grammar in fom- days. The text-books used then and at present are merely adjunctive. In texts obstacles are at a minimum; and at Holyoke obstacles are highly prized, such obstacles as force the "young ladies" to the unhappy necessity of doing their own thinking. The lecture system, too, is at a minimum; I have noticed that as long as the lecturer continues to lecture, and the absorbent heads continue to wag, and the fountain pens continue to spurt, students have a sense of comfortable superiority. The thrust direct is the simple question to the individual student; and such a method is thoroughly hygienic, for it prevents, on the part of the students who are trying to answer, the feeling of an over-crowded brain. Mary Lyon believed that the Christian spirit is a quick- ener of mental power. If the beauty of word and beauty of thought in the Bible are any evidence, then, indeed, it must be! Her own English, although marked by some of the cant phrases of the time, was singularly pure, graphic, direct, cadenced. And from laughter to tears she had the power of speech. But what the "Christian spirit" did for Mary Lyon was to make her service as a teacher incor- 124 Education ruptible, — I do not say faultless, — and from her the col- lege has derived an ideal in teaching which has nothing to do with "trade," and which sets no value upon the intel- lectual adventurer, however brilliant, however likely to succeed in climbing the ladder of high place. "Never teach immortal minds for money," said the founder, and certainly she did not; the average instructor in the college to-day receives five times as much as Mary Lyon did as president. Teaching as a service has been the aim of the college; and from the first Holyoke has had an enviable record in making good teachers of her students, students who have taught the world over with the courage the seK-sacrifice of pioneers, in this coimtry, in Persia, Tm-key, South Africa, the Transvaal, in Spain, in the Hawaiian Islands, and in Japan, where they were the first to provide for the higher education of Japanese students. Holyoke has, indeed, been the "Mother of Schools," and, to count only the colleges, there are five which owe their origin directly to her. I do not know of any students who, in the long run, are more Mkely to love "the principle of beauty in all things" than those at Holyoke. Their morale is excellent; they have come to college for work, and they work; they are desirous of the best; they have turned as eagerly to the world of letters and art as to their opportunities in science; they are high-minded in their studies, upright, trust- worthy, courteous. I have never known an appeal to them as gentlewomen, an appeal to their honor, their sense of right, to fail of generous response. Lacking in judgment they may be, as students old as well as yoimg often are, but I have not found them lacking in honesty. The system at Holyoke has always been an ' ' honor ' ' system. Even in the old days, when ' ' discipline' ' was a more common feature than it is now, Mary Lyon's Mary Lyon 125 severest rebuke ended with a gentle, "Now you won't do it again, dear, will you?" It might be written of the ma- jority of students who have gone in and out of Holyoke's doors. Mens sibi consda recti. In the early days there was no espionage; students reported upon themselves, poor dears! and thereby, I fear, lost much wicked pleasure which in other places has come to some of us. Mary Lyon had an especial liking for the "lively girls," for, she asserted, if rightly directed they did the best work. However, she watched these "lively girls" carefully, and was heard to remark that some young ladies who were harmless oxygen and nitrogen by themselves, if brought together made nicotine and strychnine. The early influ- ence was against class feeling; the students were considered as a unit. Since then great class feeling, so harmful all over the college world, has arisen. Now Mount Holyoke is swinging back to the old ideal, and the social center of the life is to be a general college society. The unity of the undergraduates is shown in the unusual success of their Christian Association work, in the educational extension work the Settlement Chapter is doing in the valley, and in no other way better, I think, than in the Mount Holyoke choir, numbering one hundred and eighty students. An English lady who was asked what had impressed her most in America replied, "The mammoth trees of California and the vested choir of Mount Holyoke College." In conclusion, no history is without its mistakes, with- out featvires which may well be criticized. If Mount Holyoke was provincial in her early days, it was at least with the best provincialism of idealistic New England, a heritage no more to be despised than the early laws of Athens or the severities of Sparta. If she erred, she erred Puritanwise, in loss of perspective, in failure to distin- guish between the minor essentials and the major essen- 126 Education tials. Some of the records of the old days show, too, the over-anxiety of the Puritan conscience; it may be that the emphasis nowadays is too much on the value of work regardless of the "still, small voice." Then, also, it must be said, I think, that the old students were taught to look upon life somewhat as a burden, a cross to be borne. This extreme, prevailing in early sem- inary days, prevailed, too, at Dr. Thomas Arnold's Rugby. Our present life, as something almost wholly joyous and to be made almost wholly beautiful for others &s well as for ourselves, is a very modern conception. It is the spiritual evidence of an age in many other respects sordidly com- mercial. The best of the old ideals are still intact to-day. The aim of the college is preparation for service, the deyelop- ment of a woman physically, mentally, spiritually. It is upon efficient service rather than upon pleasing accomplish- ments that the emphasis lies, with the happy result that the faddishness of the higher education for women has scarcely touched Holyoke. Miss Lyon, who said that she thought it exceedingly doubtful whether she should ever see heaven, went on cheerfully preparing the best daughters, sisters, wives, teachers she could, whose quali- ties she herself possessed preeminently — piety, good health, and a merry heart. In an absolutely non-secta- rian spirit she applied the truths of the Bible to every-day life. LOWELL AS A TEACHERS By BARRETT WENDELL S a student in Harvard College during the years 1876 and 1877 — the last two years of Mr. Lowell's regular teaching there — I had the fortune to be his pupil. My memories of him, in a character not generally known, are, perhaps, worth recording. In my junior year, a lecture of Professor Norton's excited in me a wish to read Dante under Mr. Lowell. I did not know a word of Italian, though; and I was firmly resolved to waste no more time on elementary grammar. Without much hope of a favorable reception, then, I ap- plied for admission to the course. Mr. Lowell received me in one of the small recitation rooms in the upper story of University Hall. My first impression was that he was sur- prisingly hirsute, and a little eccentric in aspect. He wore a double-breasted sack coat, [by no means new. In his necktie, which was tied in a sailor-knot, was a pin — an article of adornment at that time recently condemned by an authority which some of us were then disposed to accept as gospel. On his desk lay a silk hat not lately brushed; and nobody, I then held, had any business to wear a silk hat unless he wore coat tails, too. My second impression, which was fixed the moment he looked at me, and which has never altered, was that I had . ' From "Stelligeri, and Other Essays Concerning America." By cour- teous permission of the Author. Cop3aight, 1893, by Charles Scribner's Sons. ' 127 128 Education never met anybody quite so quizzical. Naturally, I was not exactly at ease; and Mr. Lowell appeared to take a repressed but boyish delight in keeping me a bit uneasy. He listened to my appUcation kindly, though; and finally, with a gesture that I remember as very like a stretch, told me to come in to the course and see what I could do with Dante. To that time my experience of academic teaching had led me to the belief that the only way to study a classic text in any language was to scrutinize every syllable with a care undisturbed by consideration of any more of the context than was grammatically related to it. Any real reading I had done, I had had to do without a teacher. Mr. Lowell never gave us less than a canto to read; and often gave us two or three. He never, from the beginning, bothered us with a par- ticle of Unguistic irrelevance. Here before us was a great poem — a lasting expression of what human hfe had meant to a human being, dead and gone these five centuries. Let us try, as best we might, to see what life had meant to this man; let us see what relation his experience, great and small bore to ours ; and, now and then, let us pause for a moment to notice how wonderfully beautiful his expression of this experience was. Let us read, as sympathetically as we could make ourselves read, the words of one who was as much a man as we; only vastly greater in his knowledge of wisdom and of beauty. That was the spirit of Mr. Lowell's teaching. It opened to some of us a new world. In a month, I could read Dante better than I ever learned to read Greek, or Latin, or German. His method of teaching was all his own. The class was small — not above ten or a dozen; and he generally began by making each student translate a few Unes, interrupting ■ now and then with suggestions of the poetic value of pas- Lowell as a Teacher 129 sages which were being rendered in a style too exasperat- ingly prosaic. Now and again, some word or some pas- sage would suggest to him a line of thought — sometimes very earnest, sometimes paradoxically comical — that it would never have suggested to anyone else. And he would lean back in his chair, and talk away across country till he felt hke stopping; or he would thrust his hands into the pockets of his rather shabby sack coat, and pace the end of the room with his heavy laced boots, and look at nothing in particular, and discourse of things in general. We gave up notebooks in a week. Our business was not to cram lifeless detail, but to absorb as much as we might of the spirit of his exuberant hterary vitality. And through it all he was always a quiz; you never knew what he was going to do or to say next. One whimsical digres- sion I have always remembered, chiefly for the amiable atrocity of the pun. Some mention of wings had been made in the text, whereupon Mr. Lowell observed that he had always had a Uking for wings: he had lately observed that some were being added to the ugliest house in Cam- bridge, and he cherished hopes that they might fly away with it. I remember, too, how one tremendous passage in the "Inferno" started him off in a disquisition concerning can- ker-worms, and other less mentionable — if more diverting — vermin. And then, all of a sudden, he soared up into the clouds, and poimced down on the text again, and asked the next man to translate. You could not always be sure when he was in earnest; but there was never a moment when he let you forget that you were a human being in a hmnan world, and that Dante had been one, too. One or two of us, among ourselves, nicknamed him "sweet wag"; I hke the name still. 130 Education After a month or two, he found that we were not advanc- ing fast enough. So he fell into a way of making us read one canto to him, and then reading the next to us. If we wished to interrupt him, we were as free to do so as he was to interrupt us. There was one man in the class, I remem- ber, who liked to read out-of-the-way books, and who used to break in on Mr. Lowell's translation with questions about Gabriel Harvey and other such worthies, rather humorously copying Mr. Lowell's own ^relevancies; but he could never get hold of anything so out of the way that Mr. Lowell had not read it, or at least could not talk about it as easily as if he had read it often. So, in a single college year, we read through the "Divine Comedy" and the "Vita Nuova"; and dipped into the "Convito" and the lesser writings of Dante. And more than one of us learned to love them always. This class-room work, however, was to some of us the least important part of Mr. Lowell's teaching. Almost as soon as the year began, he announced that he should always be at home one evening in the week, and glad to see us. Several of us took him at his word, and even took his word to signify more than the good man ever meant it to. For if the evening he set aside for us proved incon- venient, we made no scruple of going to Elmwood at other times; and if Mr. Lowell was at home — as he generally was in those years — we were always admitted. It is those evenings with him in his library that one remembers best. There was always a wood fire burning above a bed of ashes which had been accumulating for years. He would generally sit at one side of the fire, within easy reach of the tongs, which he often plied as he talked. What is more, when some of us grew more fa- miliar and ventured to ply the tongs ourselves, he would not interfere. Lowell as a Teacher 131 He would always be rather carelessly dressed: a loose smoking jacket, I think, and often slippers. And he would smoke a pipe. He would generally begin the even- ing by offering one a cigar. My impression, I remember, was that the cigar was always the same, and for some months I did not dare accept it. Finally, I summoned courage to smoke it, and found it very dry and the wrapper cracked, which went far to confirm my impres- sion. But one did not care about that sort of thing. His pipe fairly started, Mr. Lowell would begin to talk, in his own quizzical way, — at one moment beautifully in earnest, at the next so whimsical that you could not quite make out what he meant, — about whatever came into his head. It might be what he had just been reading; he had generally just been reading some bit of old literature — once I remember finding him deep in a narrative in the Apocrypha, which he went on reading aloud. It might be the news of the day, it might be reminiscence of any kind. All we had to do was to sit and listen, which was far better than any other way of spending an evening known to me in those days. To talk to him was hard. A man to whom people have liked to listen these thirty years rarely remains a good Us- tener to things like undergraduate chatter, which are not worth serious attention. But when he did Hsten, and when he talked, too, he did so — no matter how quizzically — with a certain politeness that at the time seemed to me, and in memory remains, a typical example of the signifi- cation of the word urbane; and all this in smoking jacket and sUppers, by lamplight, before a flickering wood fire, whose ashes were crumbUng down into a great bed which had grown from hundreds of such fires before. The human friendliness of those evenings, whoever knew them can not forget. To some of us it gave a new 132 Education meaning to everything he touched, in teaching or in talk. Here was a man who faced great things and Uttle undis- mayed; who found in Uterature not something gravely mysterious, but only the best record that human beings have made of human life; who found, too, in human life — old and new — not something to be disdained with the serene contempt of smug scholarship, but the everlasting material from which Uterature and art are made. Here was a man, you grew to feel, who knew Uterature, and knew the world, and knew you, too; ready and wiUing, in a friendly way, to speak the word of cordial introduction. There came from those evenings a certain feeling of per- sonal affection for him, very rare in any student's exprai- ence of even the most faithful teacher. Yet, faithful as his work was in spirit, he hated the details of it, and sometimes treated them with a whimsical disregard that whoever did not appreciate how thoroughly it put them where they belonged might have deemed cyni- cally indifferent. I remember an example of this in con- nection with an examination — I beUeve the first he gave us. There are few things less favorable to Uterary culture than written examinations; they are almost unmitigated, if quite necessary, evils. Perhaps from unwillingness to degrade the text of Dante to such use, Mr. Lowell set us, when we had read the "In- ferno" and part of the "Purgatorio," a paper consisting of nothing but a long passage from Massimo d'Azeglio, which we had three hours to translate. This task we per- formed as best we might. Weeks passed, and no news came of our marks. At last one of the class, who was not quite at ease concerning his academic standing, ventured, at the close of a recitation, to ask if Mr. Lowell had assigned him a mark. Mr. Lowell looked at the youth very gravely, and inquired what he really thought his Lowell as a Teacher 133 work deserved. The student rather diffidently said that he hoped it was worth sixty per cent. "You may take it," said Mr. Lowell, "and I shan't have the bother of reading your book." I remember two or three instances of the curious friend- liness which by and by sprang up between him and his pupils. At that time the students were pubUshing a paper which contained likenesses of the faculty, imitated — at the longest of intervals — from " Vanity Fair." When a portrait of Mr. Lowell appeared, with his sack coat and his silk hat and his heavy boots all duly emphasized, somebody ventured to ask him how he liked it. To which he replied that he had been grieved to observe that the artist had allowed a handkerchief to protrude from his breast pocket; but had been consoled by the fact that the artist had kindly permitted him to wear plaid trousers — an innocent fancy of his to which Mrs. Lowell strongly objected. Another very different example of his way of treating us appeared one evening, when I went alone to call at Ehn- wood, and found him alone in his library. I had never seen him so stem in aspect, so absent in maimer. In a moment he told me why. He had just heard of the death of a dear friend. Of course I rose to go, but he detained me; it would do him good, he said, to talk. I have always wished that I had written down what I remembered of the talk that followed, for it still seems to me that I have never heard another so memorable; but all that remains with me now is the very beginning. There is one blessed comfort, he said, that comes with death; then, at last, we can begin, with certainty of no awaking disenchantment, to idealize those we love. It is the dead, unbodied Beatrice who lives forever in the Unes of Dante. We can watch among our friends the growth of 134 Education their own Beatrices that such as have had the happiness to know them make amid the agonies of bereavement, each for himself. This friend of his own, just dead, was already gathering to herself the unmixed glories of the ideality which would gather about her as long as those who loved her should live to know it. And so he talked on, rambling far and wide, not forget- ting now and then the whimsicality without which his talk would not have been his, nor ever forgetting either the deep gravity of the mood in which I had found him. That talk was such a poem as I have never read. When at last I left him, he took my hand more warmly than ever before. It had done him good, that silent greeting said, to talk, to have any Ustener. The feeUng of personal regard which came from stich intercourse as this was different from anything else I knew as a student. You felt, at last, in spite of all his quizzical whimsicality, a sentiment of intimacy, of confidence, of familiarity which no one else excited) You felt instinc- tively that such a feeling must be mutual. Mr. Lowell was a celebrated man, of course; a serious figure in Anaer- ican Hterature. But at that moment, though he was still in the full vigor of life, his work seemed pretty well over. You thought of him as a kind old friend, resting contem- platively before his wood fire, thinking and talking of aU manner of human things; and waiting, very serenely, in sack coat and slippers, for the far-off end of an ideal Ufe of letters. It was just at the end of my second year of study with him — a year in which he had taught me al- most as much over the text of "Roland" and other dreary old French poems as he had taught over Dante hims elf — that the news came that he was going to Spain. I heard it, I think, on our class day. The class had distinguished itself by an internal squabble which had pre- Lowell as a Teacher. 135 vented the election of class-day officers, and consequently the usual oration and poem, and so on. By way of peacemaking, perhaps, Mr. Lowell had invited us all to an open-air breakfast at Elmwood, at the hour when formal ceremonies usually make the beginning of class day at Har- vard so remote from amusing. Few of the men knew him, even by sight; but all found him so cordial a host that for the moment our animosities were half forgotten. I asked him if the report of his mission were true; and he said it was. I remember wondering how this friendly, careless, whimsical, human man of letters, who had seemed so per- manently settled in his armchair, would manage the rather serious business of diplomatic life; wondering, with true boyish impudence, whether he would be up to it. After that day I did not see him until his final return from the mission to England. All the time I had felt as if such intimate personal feeUng as he had aroused and permitted must have been mutual. When at last I met him again, it was a slight shock to find that he had quite forgotten my face, and almost forgotten my name. The truth was, I began at last to see, that throughout those old days he had known better than any of us what dull, fruitless beings we college boys were; but that his business had been to teach us all he could, and he had known that he, at least, could teach best by showing himself to us as he was. All this kindness, all this friendliness, all this humanity was real; all the culture he had striven to impart to us was as precious as we had ever thought it. We ourselves, though, were mere passing figures, not worth very serious personal memory; and Mr. Lowell valued people at their true worth, and was beautifully free from that clerical kind of humbug which presses your hand after an interval of years, and asks feeUngly for the dear children it has 136 Education never bothered its wits about. And the fact that all he had been to us and all he had done for us had been his honest, earnest work as a teacher, and not his spontaneous conduct as a human being, makes it seem now all the more admirable. I have often shuddered to think how we must have bored him; I have never ceased more and more to admire the faithful persistency with which he inspired us. The last time I spoke to him was on his seventieth birth- day. A public dinner had been given him, and in the speeches his public life and works had been rehearsed from beginning to end ; but not a word had been said of his teach- ing. After dinner I told him that this omission had meant much to me, that to me he would always be chiefly the most inspiring teacher I had ever had. His face lighted with the old quizzical smile, and I could not tell quite how much he was in earnest when, with all the old urbanity, he answered, "I 'm glad you said that. I 've been wondering if I had n't wasted half my life." PRESIDENT ELIOT AS AN EDUCATIONAL REFORMER By WILLIAM DeWITT HYDE IHE career of President Eliot marks with absolute precision our one great educational epoch. For he is no mere essajdst or orator. Here we see the man who for thirty critical years, as prime minister of our educational realm, has defied prejudice, conquered obstacles, lived down opposi- tion, and reorganized our entire educational system from top to bottom. Our first witness shall be the Harvard Catalogue for the year 1869-70. There is a single set of requirements for admission: the traditional Latin, Greek, and mathe- matics, with so much ancient history as, in the words of the president, "a clever boy could commit to memory in three or four days." Though some dozen electives are offered in each of the last three years, yet the back- bone of the curriculum consists of prescribed studies supposed to be equally essential and profitable for all. Among the many things required of Freshmen are Champ- lin's "First Principles of Ethics" and Bulfinch's "Evi- dences of Christianity." "The Student's Gibbon, about twenty selected chapters," "Stewart's Philosophy of the Mind, about three hundred and fifty pages," and "Cooke's Chemical Philosophy, about one hundred and eighty pages," are among the half dozen things all Sophomores are compelled to learn. "Bowen's Logic, three hundred and thirteen pages, Reid's Essays (selections), Hamilton's Metaphysics, three hundred pages, and Lardner's Optics, 137 138 Education chapters one to seven, thirteen, and portions of chapter fourteen," are required of all Juniors. In the first term of Senior year the requirements are, "Philosophy, Bowen's Ethics and Metaphysics, Bowen's Political Economy, Modern History, Guizot's and Arnold's Lectures, Story's Abridged Commentaries on the Constitution"; and in the second term, "History, Hallam's Middle Ages, one volume. Religious Instruction, Political Economy, Bowen's finished. " It is not so much the extent as the nature of these requirements — the large place given to metaphysics, and that of a single school in dogmatic form, finally narrowed down to the single learned author in charge of the department; the specification of the precise number of pages and fractions of a chapter; the fact that instruc- tion in science is primarily concerned with pages and chapters anyway; and the notion that whether in one book or many a subject like political economy can be "finished" — that makes us rub our eyes and look twice at the title-page, to see if this indeed can be a catalogue of Harvard under President Eliot. Against this hide-bound uniformity, this dead pre- scription, this dogmatism of second-rate minds, this heterogeneous aggregate of unrelated fragments of in- struction, elementary from beginning to end, by which, as he says, "the managers of American colleges have made it impossible for the student to get a thorough knowledge of any subject whatever," the young president hurled his ideas of liberty in the choice of studies; absolute freedom of investigation in teacher and taught; science by first-hand observation and fresh experiment and care- ful induction; philosophy and religion by candid criticism of all proposed solutions of the problems of the spiritual life; the supreme worth of the differences of individuals President Eliot as an Educational Reformer 139 from one another in aptitude for acquisition and capacity for service. This, which has been one of his greatest contributions to education, was not so hard a task to accomplish at Harvard as it would have been elsewhere; for a respect- able beginning had already been made, and the needed funds for its development were forthcoming; yet not without hard and steady fighting for each inch of ground was the principle finally established throughout the col- lege, when the Freshman work became largely elective in 1884. The triumphs of the principle in the matter of requirements for admission, with all the added reality and life that it brings to secondary instruction, did not find complete acceptance with the faculty until 1897. In the meantime President Eliot was fighting the same battle in behalf of the colleges of the country at large. Though wielding the enormous power and resources of Harvard with tremendous vigor, and making every move redound to her glory and advantage, he has ever had the most generous desire that others should share in what- ever good thing Harvard has wrought out. Doubtless his mode of tendering his assistance has been open to misunderstanding on the part of those who did not know the man. Year after year, from 1870 down to 1888, he went into the Association of New England Colleges, pointing out to the representatives of sister institutions the defects of prescription and the blessings of freedom. A single specimen of the frankness he was wont to exercise in the presentation of this theme is preserved in an essay now reprinted from the "Century Magazine" for 1884, in which he says: "No knowledge of either French or German is required for admission to Yale College, and no instruction is 140 Education provided in either language before the beginning of the Junior year. In other words, Yale College does not sug- gest that the preparatory schools ought to teach either French or German^ does not give its students the oppor- tunity of acquiring these languages in season to use them in other studies, and does not offer them any adequate opportunity of becoming acquainted with the literature of either language before they take the Bachelor's degree. Could we have stronger evidence than this of the degraded condition of French and German in the mass of our schools and colleges?" Inasmuch as men like President Porter and President Seelye were not always able to appreciate the disinter- ested devotion to the true welfare of their respective institutions which President EUot was wont thus to manifest on all occasions, the meetings of the Association of New England Colleges were often quite animated, in the days when this reform was being extended from Har- vard to her sister institutions. To these meetings he has always come early, and he has stayed late; bringing with him definite topics for discussion, and m"ging his associates to some positive educational advance. In 1894 he urged in the Association, and later repeatedly elsewhere, the establishment of a common board of examiners which should hold examinations at two or three hundred points throughout the United States, and whose certificates should be accepted by all the cooperating institutions. Although a large number is desirable for such coopera- tion, he proposed to start with five colleges besides his own. And yet not five institutions could be found sufficiently ready to cooperate in such a vital and far- reaching scheme for elevating secondary education through- out the country, and saving us from the Dead Sea of President Eliot as an Educational Reformer 141 superficiality. So very rare, even in educational institu- tions, is the disposition to put the interests of the commu- nity first, and to find the true interest of a particular college in generous devotion to these objective ends, that even the disinterestedness of this measure was sus- pected in quarters which ought to have been above the capacity for such suspicion. At the very first President Eliot took in hand the im- provement of professional training. In 1869 he found the Medical School little more than an irresponsible commercial venture. There were no requirements for admission-; attendance was required for two courses of lectures only, brief in themselves, and still further ab- breviated by the failure of the great majority of students to attend during the summer term. A student who passed successfully five out of nine oral examinations, of a few minutes' duration each, received a diploma; al- though, as came out in the discussion of this matter in the Board of Overseers, he might not know the limit of safety in the administration of morphine, and one had actually killed two early patients in consequence. As the president says, "Under this system young men might receive the degree of Doctor of Medicine who had had no academic training whatever, and who were ignorant of four out of nine fundamental subjects." At his suggestion, the financial administration of the school was placed at once in the hands of the treasurer of the university; the course of instruction was extended to three years of two equal terms at which attendance was required; the course was made progressive through- out the three years; laboratory work was added to the didactic lectures, and written examinations were distrib- uted through the three years, all of which each student was required to pass. By 1874 the students were divided 142 Education into three classes, with rigid requirements for promotion. In 1877 physics and Latin were required for admission. To these requirements additions have repeatedly been made; so that now candidates must present a degree from a reputable college or scientific school unless ad- mitted by special vote of the faculty in each case. In 1892 the course was extended to four years. Since 1888 the elective principle has been recognized in the latter part of the course. President Eliot's influence has done much to raise the profession of medicine from the refuge of "imcultivated men, with scanty knowledge of medicine or of surgery," to a position in which it is fully worthy of his high tribute when he says, "It offers to young men the largest opportunities for disinterested, devoted, and heroic service. " The Harvard Law School in 1869 was another illus- tration of the remark which President EUot made in an address at the inauguration of President Oilman: "During the past forty years the rules which governed admission to the honorable and learned professions of law and medicine have been carelessly relaxed, and we are now suffering great losses and injuries, both material and moral, in consequence. " Dean Langdell describes the condition as follows: "In respect to instruction there was no division of the school into classes, but with a single exception all the instruction given was intended for the whole school. There never had been any attempt by means of legisla- tion to raise the standard of education at the school, nor to discriminate between the capable and the incapable, the diligent and the idle. It had always been deemed a prime object to attract students to the school, and with that view as little as possible was required of them. Students were admitted without any evidence of academic President Eliot as an Educational Reformer 143 acquirements; and they were sent out from it, with a degree, without any evidence of legal acquirements. The degree of Bachelor of Laws was conferred solely upon evidence that the student had been nominally a member of the school for a certain length of time and had paid his tuition fees, the longest time being one and a half years." At once a new course was estabUshed, and an exami- nation was held for the degree. Early in the next academic year the first recorded faculty meeting was held; and of the one hundred and ninety-eight meetings regularly held during the succeeding twenty-four years the president of the university presided at all but five. In 1877 the course of study was extended to three years, and the tuition fee was raised to one hundred and fifty dollars. Since 1896 only graduates of approved colleges have been admitted as candidates for the degree. The Divinity School in 1869 was a feeble institution, to which only six pages were assigned in the university catalogue; requiring no academic preparation beyond "a knowledge of the branches of education commonly taught in the best academies and high schools." Only five of the thirty-six students had received a degree of Bachelor of Arts or Master of Arts, whereas six needy persons who were recipients of such degrees could have three hundred and fifty dollars apiece each year^for the asking; and a fund yielding from one hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty dollars apiece was divided among all applicants in the regular or partial course, regardless of abihty or scholarship. The five professors were all adherents of a single sect. President Eliot from the first contended that "the gratuitous character of the ordinary theological training supplied by denominational seminaries is an injury to 144 Education the Protestant ministry. It would be better for the profession, on the whole, if no young men could get into it except those whose parents are able to support them, and those who have capacity and energy enough to earn their own way. These tests constitute a natural method of selection which has long been applied in the other learned professions to their great advantage. Excep- tions should be made in favor of needy young men of decided merit and promise, to whom scholarships should be awarded on satisfactory tests of abiUty and character." Accordingly, in the year 1872-73, the promiscuous dis- tribution of aid to all appUcants in equal parts was stopped, and scholarships were estabUshed in its place. In order that "the mendicant element in theological education might be completely eliminated, and the Protestant min- istry put on a thoroughly respectable footing in modem society," the President recommended in 1890 that the tuition fee be raised to the same amount as in other de- partments of the university. After much doubt and misgiving on the part of the friends of the school, this bold step was taken in 1897. Since 1882 a college edu- cation or its equivalent has been required of candidates for the degree of Bachelor of Divinity. Having thus started every department of the univer- sity upon the pathway of reform. President Eliot next turned his attention to the secondary schools. As far back as his report for the year 1873-74 he had called attention to "the great importance to the colleges and to the community that the way be kept wide open from the primary school to the professional school, for the poor as well as for the rich," and had said, "The desired con- nection between the secondary schools and the colleges might be secured by effecting certain changes in the requi- sitions for admission to college on the one hand, and in President Eliot as an Educational Reformer 145 the studies of the existing high schools on the other. But this is not the place to discuss these changes at length." Seventeen years later he found the place for such dis- cussion at the meeting of the National Educational Association, in a speech which led to the formation of the famous Committee of Ten, of which he was appointed chairman. By his prodigious labors on that committee he secured national sanction for his long-cherished views as to the worthlessness of short, scrappy information courses; the earUer beginning in the elementary schools of such subjects as algebra, geometry, natural science, and modern languages; "the correlation and association of subjects with one another by the programs and by the actual teaching"; emphasis on the supreme importance of thorough training in English; the doctrine that second- ary schools supported at public expense should be pri- marily for the many who do not pursue their education farther, and only incidentally for the few who are going to college; the doctrine of the equal rank, for purposes of admission to college, of all subjects taught by proper methods with sufficient concentration, time allotment, and consecutiveness; and the corollary thereof, that college requirements for admission should coincide with high-school requirements for graduation. At the same time he secured the working out in detail of the practical appUcation of these measures by repre- sentative experts in all the departments involved; thus giving to secondary education the greatest impulse in the direction of efficiency, variety, serviceableness, and vital- ity it has ever received, and winning the grandest victory ever achieved in the field of American education. Nor did he stop there. Finding by actual experiment with schoolboys brought to his own study that the entire reading matter included in a grammar-school course 146 Education covering six years could be read aloud in forty-six hours, and that the work in arithmetic done during two years by giving one-fifth of all the time of the school to it could be done by a bright boy fresh from the high school in fifteen hours; finding by actual reading of everything used in that grammar school that the entire course was duU and destitute of human interest, consisting chiefly in the exercise of mere memory on such relatively useless matters as the capitals and boundaries of distant states; finding that the children and the community aUke were suffering irreparable harm because the peculiar natural aptitudes of individual children were not appealed to, and consequently not developed, — in 1891, after con- siderable discussion, and in spite of some opposition directed from the headquarters of conservatism, he secured from the Association of New England Colleges, at its annual meeting at Brown University, an indorsement of his plan for "shortening and enriching the gT a.mTnfl.r - school course." The recommendation then made covered five points: elementary natural history in the earlier years, to be taught by demonstrations and practical exercises, with suitable apparatus, rather than from books; elementary physics in the later years, to be taught by the labo- ratory method; algebra and geometry at the age of twelve or thirteen; and French, German, or Latin, or any two of these languages, from and after the age of ten. During the years immediately following he was busy advocating these reforms in primary and secondary education; always resting his argument on the supreme importance, both for the children and for the community, that each individual's peculiar powers should be trained to the highest degree, as a means to that equality of opportunity which is the glory of a true democracy, and that diversity President Eliot as an Educational Reformer 147 of talent and function which is essential to happy and useful social life; and pointing out that these reforms were quite as much in the interest of the many whose edu- cation ends at the grammar school or high school as for those who go to college. When President Eliot was elected, George S. Hillard, meeting him on the street, said to him, "Do you know what quaUties you will need most out there at Harvard?" President Eliot replied that he supposed he would need industry, courage, and the like. "No," said Mr. Hillard. "What you will need is patience — patience — patience." So it has proved. All these reforms have required ten, twenty, or thirty years for their accomplishment. Yet this marvelous patience has been no idle waiting for the lapse of time, but the steady pressure of one who was confident that he was right, and sure that, if urged at every opportunity, the right would gain adherents and ultimately prevail. President Eliot's reforms have all been rooted in prin- ciples and purposes which at bottom are moral and religious. He has gone up and down the whole length of our educational line, condemning every defect, denouncing every abuse, exposing every sham, rebuking every form of incompetence and inefficiency, as treason to the truth, an injury to the community, a crime against the individual. To his mind, intent on making God's richest gifts avail- able for the blessing of mankind, a dull grammar school is an instrument of intellectual abortion; uniformity in secondary schools is a slow starvation process; paternalism and prescription in college is a dwarfing and stunting of the powers on which the prosperity of a democratic society must rest; superficial legal training is partnership in robbery; inadequate medical education is wholesale murder; dishonest theological instruction is an occasion 148 Education of stumbling more to be dreaded than "that a great millstone should be hanged about his neck, and that he should be cast into the depths of the sea. " Such has been the work of this educational reformer. What, then, has been his reward? For the first twenty- five years he was misunderstood, misrepresented, mahgned, hated with and without cause. It may be that it is an essential element of the reformer's make-up that, in order to hold firmly and tenaciously his own views against a hostile world, he should be somewhat lacking in sensi- tiveness, and at times appear to take a hostile attitude toward those who differ from him. This, at any rate, seems to have been characteristic of President EUot during the early years of his long fight for educational reform. In later years, now that most of his favorite reforms are well launched, and his services in their behalf are acknowledged with gratitude on all sides, there has been manifest a great change, amounting to the kindhest appreciation of temperaments widely different from his own. Even in the days of his apparent hardness he was never known to cherish personal animosity on account of difference of views. At the time when the fight was hottest in his own faculty, meeting an assistant pro- fessor, most outspoken in antagonism to all his favorite measures, who had received a call to go elsewhere, he said to him, "I suppose you understand that your oppo- sition to my pohcy will not in the slightest degree inter- fere with your promotion here. " Partly owing to the triumph of his views, even in the minds of most of his old opponents who survive, partly owing to the change which the years with their increasing cares and sorrows have wrought in the man himself, he has come to be universally trusted, admired, and loved President Eliot as an Educational Reformer 149 by all who know him well. Yet his chief reward has been that which he commended to another, "the great happi- ness of devoting oneself for life to a noble work without reserve, or stint, or thought of self, looking for no advance- ment, hoping for nothing again. " No one can begin to measure the gain to civilization and human happiness his services have wrought. As compared with what would have been accomphshed by a series of conservative clergymen, or ornate figure- heads, or narrow specialists, or even mere business men such as by the uninformed he has most erroneously sometimes been supposed to be, his leadership has doubled the rate of educational advance not in Harvard alone, but throughout the United States. He has sought to extend the helping hand of sympathy and appreciation to every struggUng capacity in the humblest grammar grade; to stimulate it into joyous blossoming under the simshine of congenial studies throughout the secondary years; to bring it to a sturdy and sound maturity in the atmosphere of liberty in college life; and, finally, by stern selection and thorough specialization, to gather a harvest of experts in all the higher walks of life, on whose skill, knowledge, integrity, and self-sacrifice their less trained fellows can imphcitly rely for higher instruction, profes- sional counsel, and public leadership. In consequence of these comprehensive reforms, we see the first beginnings of a rational and universal church, not separate froin existing sects, but permeating all; property rights in all their subtle forms are more secure and well defined; hundreds of persons are alive to-day who under physicians of inferior training would have died long ago; thousands of college students have had quickened within them a keen intellectual interest, an earnest spiritual purpose, a "personal power in action 150 Education under responsibility," who under the old regime would have remained listless and indifferent; tens of thousands of boys and girls in secondary schools can expand then- hearts and minds with science and history and the languages of other lands, who but for President Eliot would have been doomed to the monotonous treadmill of formal studies for which they have no aptitude or taste; and, as the years go by, hundreds of thousands of the children of the poor, in the precious tender years before their early drafting into lives of drudgery and toil, in place of the dry husks of superfluous arithmetic, the thrice- threshed straw of unessential grammar, and the innu- tritions shells of unrememberable geographical details, will get some brief glimpse of the wondrous loveliness of nature and her laws, some slight toubh of inspira- tion from the words and deeds of the world's wisest and bravest men, to carry with them as a heritage to brighten their future humble homes and gladden all their after- lives. In such "good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over," has there been given to this great educational reformer, in retm-n for generous and steadfast service of his university, his fellow men, his country, and his God, what, in true Puritan simpUcity, he calls "that finest luxury, to do some perpetual good in this world." EDUCATION BY CORRESPONDENCE^ By RUSSELL DOUBLEDAY HE great majority of the worid's workers are equipped with scarcely more than a common- n^^^IM school education, and are often totally igno- ■^ — ^^ rant of the theoretical workings of their own business. Many a trolley motorman knows Uttle more than the workings of his own car, and would find difficulty in explaining how the electricity that propels it is generated, transformed, transmitted, and measured. The mines are full of workmen who are absolutely ignorant of the systems of ventilation and water control that keep the under- ground passages fit for existence. The crying need for bread for the family has put many a youngster at labor when he should be still working at the three R's. The youngster also lacks perspective and can not see how necessary early education is, and he gladly avails himself of the first opportunity to go to work. PubUc illustrated lectures have done much to supply these partly educated or totally uneducated people with general information, but there is little in them that is specific. Instruction by correspondence has succeeded better in rounding out the education of those imperfectly equipped, and in developing trained workers in special lines. Education by correspondence can never supplant per- sonal instruction, but it has made it possible to educate great numbers of people who would otherwise be always 1 From " The World's Work." Copyright, 1902, by Doubleday, Page & Company. 151 152 Education ignorant of things they would really like to know. The new method of instruction has become a recognized factor in the business world, and has given an uplift to the whole body of wage earners. If a workman is studying by cor- respondence a subject which helps to make him more valu- able to his employer, the interest of the latter is aroused and the man's chances for advancement are greatly in- creased. In fact, many firms employing skilled labor encourage their men by offering correspondence-school scholarships at reduced rates and by promising them advancement, to take up courses that will enable them to do a higher grade of work or fit them for superintend- ing positions. The growing business (for instruction by correspondence is a commercial enterprise and, unlike most educational institutions, is a matter of investment, not endowment) is due to the demand of working people for instruction to fit them for higher positions in the work in which they are at present engaged, or to give them an opportunity to get into a more congenial occupation. One of the most impor- tant schools, which has the largest number of students on its roll, began through the demand of miners for a fuller knowledge of the working of mines ; from a series of practi- cal instruction articles in a mining periodical has grown a series of correspondence courses that includes almost every branch of knowledge. Almost without exception, however, the courses interest only those who are seeking an aid to better positions. The student of a correspondence course requires great determination and perhaps even more application than is shown by one who works under a personal instructor. All the help of personal supervision and class stimulus is denied to the pupil of the correspondence courses. He studies, as a rule, alone, has to draw on his own enthusiasm Education by Correspondence 153 and depend on his own determination and perseverance. The vague impersonal "school" which sends him his instruction papers and corrects his written recitations in- spires scant enthusiasm. A great majority of those get- ting an education through the mail are workers in mines, in railroads, in manufacturing shops and offices. It requires great persistence to study alone at a lesson after a hard day's work and without the aid of personal encouragement. A man a little beyond the enthusiasm of yputh has spent his days shoveUng coal into an all-devouring fur- nace; his working hours are from half past six in the morning to half past five in the afternoon; the day's work is hard and tiring and the end of it leaves him weary and sleepy. He lacks education, and his whole life has been a struggle for existence. Nevertheless, he has the determina- tion, the intelligence, the ambition to make something of himself. He subscribes to a correspondence course and after his day'swork is done, in his none too attractive home, in spite of much interruption and a weary body, he studies his instruction papers, works out his increasingly difficult mathematical problems, traces out the mechanical charts sent him for his guidance and applies them to whatever machinery he may have chances to examine. He sends in his examination papers when he can, notes the correc- tions and files them away for reference. By the time he has finished his course and received his certificate from the school, the very appearance of the man has changed; he has the dignity and the confidence of one who knows, and knows that he knows, and he has the equipment of knowledge that makes him much too valuable a man to work at the mere mechanical labor of firing. He soon gets a better position, — work with better pay. This is an actual case. Motormen on trolley lines 154 Education have become electrical engineers; coal passers, a grade of labor lower than a fireman, have become engineers of standing through the education gained by home study- directed through correspondence. Often an entirely new line of work has been entered; dry-goods clerks have become consulting chemists; stenog- raphers have become Unguists and translators; messenger boys have learned to keep books and conduct cashiers' desks — all through self -education directed by correspond- ence. Many hundreds of thousands have already com- pleted courses, and several hundreds of thousands are now at work. The subjects taught by correspondence have grown to meet the needs of the students. Languages and drawing, engineering and stenography, business methods and law — all these and the multitude of branches of special knowl- edge are taught: several schools teach many different subjects, ranging from electrical engineering to languages, while others confine themselves to but one or two. The schools that conduct many different courses are practically several separate schools under one general management; each branch has its own principal and staff of assistants and examiners; thus all courses have the advantage of in- dividual supervision. The student specifies which course he wishes to take, and states his knowledge of the chosen subject. In general he is advised to begin at the beginning, because he may be deficient in the rudiments, though, if something is known of the subject, the elementary part may be passed over quickly. The student buys what is called a scholarship, cash down or on the installment plan (the cost for the course varies greatly, ranging from fifteen to seventy-five dollars), which entitles him to a complete course of instruction in the subject chosen. The first instruction paper is sent him Education by Correspondence 155 and a blank with printed questions for written recitations, and in some cases textbooks: many schools issue instruc- tion papers in the form of pamphlets which may be easily carried about. They contain lessons in the form of rules or condensed information or mathematical problems, which must be studied or memorized. • When the student has reached the end of the section or lesson he is expected to forward his recitation to the school; the questions answered in the examination papers are so arranged that the student must apply the knowledge acquired by studying the lesson preceding it. There is no way to compel the student to recite, but the fact is emphasized that only by examinations and correction can the full value of the course be secured, and as the majority of the students take the course for a specific purpose they are glad to get all the benefit possible. The "recitation" is sent to the instructor of the school under whose particular branch it comes, is corrected by him not only from the technical standpoint but also for general style, grammar, penmanship, and composition, so that the work of the student is kept up to a high standard in every direction. This is especially valuable to the student who has not had the advantages of a thorough conunon-school education. The recitation papers are returned with the corrections plainly marked and what- ever suggestions and special instructions may be necessary for the study of the next lesson. Some schools send the second instruction paper only after the first has been mas- tered, completing one task before another is taken up, thus insuring a high standard of scholarship. The directors of correspondence schools claim that every- thing teachable can be taught by correspondence with the aid of modern ingenuity and modern devices. Provided the student is earnest in his desire to learn, and has the 156 Education determination to finish the course conscientiously, the instructors guarantee a thorough education in almost any line the student may choose. The determination required to study by one's self is the first requisite; the whole system is based on that. The instruction papers, convenient in form, clearly written, contain the very gist of the information needed and are so arranged that the student is carried onward by easy stages; the written recitations help greatly to fix the essential points in mind and aid the student in writing, composition, and punctuation (the examination papers are corrected on every point, whether the subject of the lesson be steam engineering or pedagogy); the instruction papers are always on hand for reference, and the examination papers being returned to the student may also be used for refer- ence and point the moral of his former mistakes. All these advantages approach, it is said, the benefits of a personal instructor and the incentive of rivalry; certainly the results obtained seem to bear this out. Very ingenious are the methods employed to teach some of the subjects through the mails. It would seem to be impossible to teach languages satisfactorily, yet the writer heard, at one school, the reproduction of the voice of a student in California who had been studying but two months. The accent, as far as the hearer could judge, was well nigh perfect, for the teacher could make but two corrections; this student had had no personal instruction whatever, he got his knowledge of the language (German) sound, construction and accent entirely from the instruc- tion books and the phonographic lessons of the correspond- ence school. A complete phonographic outfit is furnished each student, phonograph with receiver and recorder and lesson and blank record cylinders. With each lesson-book which teaches the student to Education by Correspondence 157 read the language is sent a lesson-record which, when put on the phonograph, gives a distinct reproduction of the sounds which the student is at the same time learning by sight from the book. By a clever device any letter or word may be repeated till the hearer is perfectly familiar with the whole lesson. When the pupil thinks he understands the part well enough he talks his exercise into the phono- graph; this record is sent on to the school where it is lis- tened to by the principal there and corrected by hinl. The mistakes are pointed out and he is referred back to the instruction paper or to the corresponding record where the mistake is made very evident. Besides the phono- graph recitation a written exercise is sent at the same time, so that the student's knowledge of the language, both through sight and sound, may be correct. Designing is taught by means of plates of historic orna- ments which are copied until the student is familiar with them and his technique is fairly good; then he is required to use his own ideas in the combining of these designs and through entirely original designs. In each case, whether mechanical or freehand drawing, bookkeeping, stenog- raphy or civil engineering, the recitations sent by mail are the means by which the school is kept informed of the student's progress, and his interest and the quality of his work are kept up. It can be truthfully said that education by correspond- ence, whether for the beginner, for the worker, or for the collegian who wishes to take a postgraduate course, is but just beginning. That it will take the place of schools and colleges is not to be thought of, but there is no doubt that it helps great numbers of people, and especially people who work. ENDS AND MEANS IN A GIRLS' SCHOOL^ By HELOISE E. HERSEY Y DEAR HELEN: The difference between an educated and an uneducated woman? Yes, I think I know it, though I don't won- der that you are puzzled in comparing the qualities which you see in your Aunt Lizzie and those of MJss Johnson, freshly arrived from abroad, in all the glory of a European Ph.D. Your aunt was educated, as the phrase goes, in an old-fashioned, fashionable boarding school, where she was taught little except Americanized French, English his- tory, needlework, and dancing; and yet you think her a more useful and delightful member of society than Miss Johnson, who reads seven languages and took high honors with a thesis on quaternions. Now, when I was a sophomore in college I had per- fectly clear ideas as to what constituted feminine educa- tion. (We used to call it "The Higher Education" in those days, and took it for granted that that phrase re- ferred to women, and not to men.) There was no doubt in my mind then that this education rested solidly upon a college degree. Modern science was its prime essential. History and French and music and belles-lettres had been well enough for our grandmothers, but scarcely counted toward the end which we modem women wished to gain. Now I have revised that judg- ^ From " To Girls." By permission of the Author and Ginn and Com- pany. Copyright, 1902. 158 Ends and Means in a Girls' School 159 ment. To explain my present point of view, I must go back a little, to the real aim of education. Education, like religion, we may say reverently, is to be known by its fruits. The ability to pass examina- tions and to take high honors, to wrest a degree from a reluctant university, to carry through a difficult piece of original research, — none of these is the test. They are promise, not fulfillment; blossom, not fruit; the road, not home. In other words, education is not an end in itself, but the means to an end. So much that is deUghtful in the way of friendship and social life and pleasant class- room rivalries is associated with the years in college dormitories that there is danger of our forgetting the actual significance of these things. It is really slight. Suppose I take you into my confidence, and tell you the actual test which I apply relentlessly to find out if a woman is well educated. It is this: Is she skilled in the art of living? Such a test, you see, would make difficult work for a board of examiners; but, after all, it is not so troublesome to apply as you might suppose. You know well enough the distinction between ama- teur acting and that of the professional. We take pleas- ure in two amateur performances in the course of a winter, but a constant succession of them would be pretty painful. In point of fact, the third-rate pro- fessional gives more pleasure in the long run than the first-rate amateur. This is because he knows how to use all his powers, and he makes the most of them. He may even turn his weaknesses to his advantage. (Wit- ness Sir Henry Irving's impersonation of Louis XI.) The professional's performance is all of a piece; and, although it may never reach any very high level, it has a certain consistency and completeness which make upon us the impression of reality. 160 Education Now education should turn the amateiu" in the art of living into the professional. My educated woman has all her powers at her command. They are not scat- tered by an emergency. Her temper is no more likely to play her false than her reasoning power, and her heart and her hand are equally steady and equally generous. For example, my friend Mrs. Smithson lost all her servants in a cold snap last winter because the water pipes froze and her temper got the better of her. Whether the accident was her fault or that of the cook does not matter for the argument. The catastrophe demon- strated that in so far she was not an educated woman, although I believe she has written an admirable essay on Browning's "Sordello." The Harvard students who "plunged" in the stock market a few weeks ago, and lost a year's allowance and more, were not educated, and probably hardly on the road to education. Mary EjQowles went to bed last winter and stayed there for a fortnight on being told by her father that she must give up her pony and dogcart in the family retrenchment of expenses. She is attending one of the most expensive schools in Boston, but so far she has not taken the first step toward being educated. On the other hand, Stevenson, who never got a degree from the University of Edinburgh, made his frail body do the bidding of his iron will all his hfe. Shakespeare knew small Latin and less Greek, but his eye was trained to see and his heart to feel and his hand to paint. The schooUng which Abraham Lincoln had was hardly one year, but no statesman of our century has had a firmer grasp of large issues. One need not go to the history of great men to see this illustrated. The girl who meets a family crisis bravely and effectively, or who can take a moribund Af*er the paintxnfj by tar bell GrRL Reading Ends and Means in a Girls' School 161 branch of the Girls' Friendly Society and restore it by her skill to life and vigor, or who can set a poor family on its feet by advice and help at the right moment, or who can be nurse, housemaid, secretary, friend, daugh- ter, by turns, and each with a good heart, this girl has already gathered the fruit of education, whatever may have been her technical training. How to come by these powers is the next question, and a very important one. Some people seem to be bom with them, but I fancy none ever is. Some men seem to be born athletic, but I have never found one who had not some history of training to tell. Now the process of education which on the whole has seemed to be most successful in getting desirable results is a twofold one. The first half of it has an ugly name, and it is not a favorite in girls' boarding schools. It is DiscipUne. Discipline consists in doing some one thing over and over and over again, and, when that is done, beginning the very same thing anew. It makes less difference than we suppose whether the task on which this labor is ex- pended is Greek, algebra, history, or French. People talk about the "discipUnary studies," meaning thereby mathematics and the classics; but in my scheme of edu- cation there is no study which is not disciplinary. If there is such a one, it surely does not belong in the cur- riculum of anybody under twenty-five years of age • This doing the thing over and over again results finally, of course, in being able to do it with extreme rapidity, accuracy, and perfection. In many cases these go so far that the act becomes really automatic. There is no better illustration of this than your experience, for instance, in learning to play the piano. The five-finger exercise, which at first took all your attention, pres- ently required no attention; and after a year or two the 162 Education finger and the brain began to act together, and the work which had been so diflBcult and thankless became a delight. There are good reasons why one should try to get this discipline out of the subjects which have been used for the purpose for centuries. Latin, for example, is better for the desired end than Chinese, because wise men have given their minds to the Latin tongue, and have developed all its capacities for discipline. I heard a clever business man say that his world was divided into two classes of men, those who had studied Latin and those who had not; and there was, and would always be, a definite difi'erence in their points of view. I had never put it quite so sharply, but I think that is substantially true. There must always be a wide difference between the man that has seen a great city and the one that has never seen one; between the man that has been to Europe and the one that has not been. The outlook gets broad- ened, changed. A man need not necessarily be better, but he is different. So with the student of Latin. His atti- tude toward the use of words is altered by even a slight knowledge of Latin, and the English dictionary be- comes a better friend. If it is true that doing the thing over, doing it well, doing it patiently, and doing it persistently, is the main thing in the requirement of training, you will see that where it is done, or under whose direction, is of little con- sequence. Now we are approaching one of the reasons, at least, why your Aunt Lizzie seems to you to be better educated than our friend, the Ph.D. Even from the delicate needlework which she learned to do at her fashionable boarding school she gained the power of at- tention, of patience, and of taste. Nobody can tell whether practice in Greek paradigms or in the use of Ends and Means in a Girls' School 163 logarithms would have been better. Suffice it to say that the end of education was attained. Of course, embroidery should not take to-day the place of history. None the less, we are bound to give it due credit for its good results in the past. Our educated woman must have a sense of propor- tion, and it is never too early to acquire that. Her study of geography, her reading of French, her knowl- edge of history, her investigations in biology, all should tend to show her the world as it is. Siberia should not be too far for her sympathy to reach. China's customs should not seem to her so odd as to turn her world upside down. England should not be merely a set of shrines sacred to literary associations, but a living island where history is a-making in this very year of our Lord. Even to the girl country born and bred the problems of the great municipal life of New York should be important and interesting; and, in short, the material for educa- tion might well be so chosen that, when it has been assimilated, our young woman can declare, without exag- geration, that nothing human is alien to her. One more word about this disciplinary process. I be- lieve it can be made perpetually interesting. Now I don't mean easy. I have no patience with easy education. The kindergarten method has no place in education after the child can read. I have gone into a school- room where the children sat in easy-chairs, and listened to the teacher's explanation of easy subjects, illustrated by the stereopticon, when I despaired of education. At the end of the day the teacher was exhausted, and the children had the pleasantly bored expression which is the most discouraging that one can see on a child's face. I recall a school which was well ventilated by loose and rattling windows, and half heated by a stove that 164 Education smoked. In it there was the buzz of recitations all day long, in every subject from the primer to Cicero's Ora- tions. There was not a single modern appliance; and yet a student, working with an antiquated lexicon and a text without a note or illustration, somehow managed to get a picture of Rome, the Forum, the Senate, and the struggling factions more vivid than any stereopticon ever gave. She was never bored with hard work; and, if her fingers sometimes ached with the cold and her eyes smarted with the smoke, she found a cure for these ills, without knowing why, in the intellectual activity which is really the highest joy of life. It would be a curious commentary on our modem enthusiasm for education if it should prove to be a cheapener of the noblest life of mind and spirit; and if we should discover, by and by, as its fruit, not skill in the art of living, but the peevish discontent with that eternal condition of wholesome life imposed in the garden of Eden: "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." I said that discipline was half of education. If it were all, a convent or a monastery would be the best place to put the young life for its training; routine is there reduced to its perfection. But the girl whose education has had in it nothing richer than subjection to routine will show little skill when she comes to actual life with its complicated problems and its sudden emer- gencies. It is easy to define the methods of disciphne. It is difficult even so much as to describe this other half of the process. Edward Thring has, perhaps, put the matter better than any one else, — "the transmission of life from the living, through the living, to the Uving." This is the second and the crowning element in educa- Ends and Means in a Girls' School 165 tion: it is a hard saying; it makes way but slowly. Many a college professor ignores or decries it. In many a lecture room a phonograph delivering the same lectures would be as useful to the student as is the teacher. Those who hold that teaching is but an inferior species of lecturing are many, and they abound especially in what we call "the higher institutions of learning." They would have us believe that a personal relation between teacher and student is subversive of all sound educa- tional results. Let us once for all get this matter cleared up. Lectur- ing is dealing with books, facts, subjects. The more excellent the arrangement, the more lucid the exposi- tion, the better satisfied may the lecturer be. He may fairly judge of his success by his own state of mind at the end of his lecture: any one else may judge of it by reading the syllabus of the lecture carefully. Teach- ing, on the other hand, is dealing with the minds and hearts of the students; and the only test of success in this art is the condition in which those hearts and minds are found at the end of an hour or a year. If the note- book has gained pages of notes, but the brain has felt no thrill of inspiration, the hour is a failure; if the memory has been tested, but the heart has not been quickened, the teacher may well be discontent; if the student has caught glimpses of the teacher's pet hobby, but the teacher has not been able to discern and reach the causes of the student's difficulties, there may have been much talk, but there has been little vitalizing work. Of course here, as in every great principle of life, there are possibilities of absurdity and exaggeration. The personal note is as sensitive to forcing as any other note in the gamut of experience. Personal relations of every sort have in themselves a tendency to degenerate if they 166 Education are not consciously held up to a high standard. There is no place more trying to the weakness of human natxire than the slight elevation on which the attractive teacher finds herself when she enters upon her work. The raised platform invites to the pleasing indulgence of striking an attitude and receiving worshipers. We all of us know the gushing teacher who loves her "dear girls," and who has tears for their little faults, blind eyes for their large ones, and no real influence in molding their characters. In no soft paths shaU my teacher and pupil walk hand in hand. The Hill Diffi- culty is to be climbed alone. The voice of inspiration, of encouragement, of admonition, wiU generally come from the cloud-capped summit. So coming, woe be to it if it have not the accent of sincerity, — a large sin- cerity! The least suspicion of a pose, a hint of flippancy, the shadow of a mock knowledge on the part of the teacher, will destroy the efficacy of any offered aid. So we come at last to this serious and sobering conclusion. A genuine personal relation between teacher and student is the vital spark of education. The nature of that relation must of necessity be determined by the elder and stronger. Life, life, life it must have and must give. Truth-telling must be its very substance. Loyalty must repay truth, even when the truth is bitter. That a teacher should give a death stab to vanity or deceit in the student, that the student should bear the pain with a smiling face, and reach out a grateful and affectionate hand of friendship in return, — this is an experience that should make each party to it glad and proud. Thus far I have spoken of this vitaUzing process as if it must always come from the mind of the teacher; but there are many other sources from which it is drawn. Ends and Means in a Girls' School 167 Great books are life-givers. When Tennyson was four- teen years old, he heard of Byron's death; though he had never seen the poet, he said: "I thought the whole world was at an end. I thought everything was over and finished for every one, — that nothing else mattered. I remember I walked out alone, and carved 'Byron is dead!' into the sandstone." Ten years later he wrote of Byron and Shelley, "However mistaken they may be, they yet did give the world another heart and new pulses; and so we are kept going." MilUons of human souls owe to the poets, the phi- losophers, the stirring writers of the Uves of great men, "another heart and new pulses." Such inspiration has come in the very highest degree from the Bible. From whatever source the stimulus comes, it is traceable at last to the contact of the human spirit with some other and greater human spirit. It is the transmission of life from the Uving (who live though they are dead) to the living. So I think we may trace in every well-regulated character the two processes of education, — its discipline and its personal inspiration. This last may have come from one teacher, from many teachers, from one's parents, from a friend, or from great books. Somewhere in the life of the well-educated man or woman we shall find that this glorious spiritual flame has touched it and set its torch alight. You will be asking me now for some practical test which may be applied that we may find out whether or not this twofold work is going on. Is there any way in which I may tell if one of my girls is being educated? I think I know one test. Let the poet help me to it with a parable. Once upon a time a fair lady dwelt at Cam- elot. She wrought a wondrous web, and she dreamt of shadows as she saw them in a mirror. One day she 168 Education broke away from work and mirror and dream; and, seeking the world in which lived the knight of her ill- fated love, she died at his feet, her hungry heart fed only by one glance of pity from his eye. So runs the world-old tale of the Lady of Shalott. Yet once again, there lived a lady deep in a wood. She, too, wove a magic garment. Till it was finished, she could never go forth into the world. One day the last thread was set in its golden fringe. Bearing it proudly on her arm, she made her way out of the forest. All unknown to her a noble prince came riding toward the very path by which she was emerging. He was close upon her. In another instant they would have been face to face, but a wretched beggar sprang from the roadside with hands stretched out for alms. In an instant she had thrown over him the magic robe, and it wrought its charm. Henceforth she was doomed to see in him, and in him alone, all manly beauties, vir- tues, powers, and to follow him throughout the world. Now here are two exquisite parables of the life, the fate, the nature, of a woman. She dies for love of the unattainable. She is blind, and loves the base with a devotion and loyalty worthy of a nobler object. From these medieval failures the education of our time is pledged to deliver us. Our modern girl may no longer die for love of that which is out of reach. She may not to-day even live cherishing a love for that which is be- neath her. She must live and choose and love, and she must choose to love the highest. Tell me what a woman loves, and I will tell you whether she has learned the fine art of living. First, she must love noble books, because they are the life blood of the most vital of human souls. Then she must love beauty wherever it is found, — in nature, in Ends and Means in a Girls' School 169 character, in good causes, in art. She shall love beauty enough to work for it with heart and mind, she shall protect it, she shall be able to create it, she shall imbue other souls with her own zeal for it. Then she shall love humanity even when it is unlovely, because, when the worst is said of man, it remains true that he was made in the image of God, and for the saving of him it was worth while that the Son of God should die. Finally, she shall love her country. She shall love it in peace and in war, in times of good report and in times of evil report. If she once loves her own country, I do not fear that she shall lack what is to-day called "the higher patriotism." I do not fear that that may sometimes be found to be no patriotism at all. Books, beauty, humanity, her country, — these are noble loves. Woe to her who substitutes for them self, pleasure, "our social circle." The new Elaine is bred neither in cloister nor in forest, but on the edge at least of the full rich life of the city. She comes forth with no magic web, but with the clear- est eyes, the most apprehensive of minds, the steadiest of wills. She is sure-footed and strong-hearted. She is no sentimentalist, she is no agnostic, she is no in- differentist. She is intellectual, and she is lovable. She knows how to listen and how to speak. She is brave, and she is true. The women of my generation dreamed of a world made new by reason of our new liberties. Our dream has but partly come to pass. The girls of the future must make the miracle for which we hoped the commonplace of every day. SUMMER CAMPS FOR BOYSi By WINTHROP TISDALE TALBOT JHE ever-growing revolt against the tyranny of modern city life has found expression for boys in summer camping. Where twenty years ago there were three camps for boys, and ten years ago there were three score, there are now several hundred. Even in 1901 the Boys' Department of the Young Men's Christian Association reported one hundred and sixty-seven camps with four thousand three hundred and twenty-seven campers; in 1904 there were more than three hundred camps and more than eight thousand campers. Besides these there were mission camps, city- settlement camps, choir camps, school camps and organ- ized private camps, at least two hundred of them. These camps are placed on the borders of lakes, on the banks of rivers, on the seacoast, — always near good swimming, — and in them rich and poor annually find new life. Their increase is so constant and normal and democratic, that it has become a genuine movement in education, and not a "fad." Swimming and diving, rowing, canoeing and saihng are the favorite sports. Swimming is most popular of all. The daily "soak" in the late forenoon is limited in time, depending on the boy and his physical condition, and upon the weather. Sometimes in the afternoon a "second soak" is allowed, especially after baseball games. One counselor is in charge, another is in a guard boat to see ' From " The World's Work." Copyright, 1905, by Doubleday, Page & Company. 170 Summer Camps for Boys 171 that no accident occurs, and the rest are in the water with the boys to teach them. Rules about the use of boats and canoes of course are stringent. Boys are required to prove their abiHty as swimmers in rough water before enjoying the freedom of the boats. After the swim, the boys love to lie out in the sun, and this daily sun bath is a potent means of storing up health and strength. The bare skins get brown and soft and silky, and there follows a subtle sense of general well-being which can not be described. As aids to health, the Finsen light and the X-ray are mere makeshifts in comparison with the penetrating sunbeam which reaches bone and sinew, muscle and nerve, and the vital organs of digestion, excretion, and breathing, and make them almost glow with vitaUty. Nearly equal to swimming in popularity are baseball, tennis, running, jumping, climbing neighboring hills and mountains, fishing trips, jolly games in camp, and amateur theatricals. Reveille sounds at seven o'clock, blankets are thrown out to air, there are a few minutes of setting-up and breathing exercises, then a rush for the tubs or a plunge in the water, and breakfast follows. Next comes the policing of the camp — for the work of the camp is done by the campers, with the exception of the cooking; old campers pride them- selves on their ability to build fires, wash dishes, clean lamps, wait on table, and sweep and keep things tidy; and the contrast in handiness at home between camp boys and their brothers who have not been to camp is striking and surprising to parents. An interesting talk by a counselor or some wide-awake visitor upon athletics or the habits of plants or animals is followed by an hour spent in collecting, developing photo- graphic negatives, or finishing the making of a canoe 172 Education paddle. It is then time for the swim. Dinner is at half past twelve — a substantial meal; there follows a rest hour when every one takes a siesta. Baseball and tennis, or short trips by land or water, fill up the afternoon. Sup- per is at half past five; some lively games follow, and then the whole camp — not one soul missing — gather around the cheery blaze of the camp fire for stories and for song. The fascination of that fire! It lingers vivid in reminis- cent moments of the boys all through the long winter. The day has been an active one — evening prayers seem a fitting close. Before nine o'clock, with the soft, dreamy notes of "Taps," the camp is quiet for the night. In general, this is the routine of the majority of camps. It is varied by excursions of a day, perhaps of a week, or longer, away from the camp on some tramping or fishing trip. The rougher experiences of these excursions give additional muscle and a friendlier fellow feeling among the boys, which cements more closely ties of growing friendship, and increases the conunon appreciation of the home camp. On Sundays, the camp hours, meals and doings are all different from those of the week day. The Sunday talks and teaching constitute a clearing house of mental and moral doubts and hesitations. The vesper service and the Sunday music are looked forward to through the week. Sundays inevitably become days of real and lasting value. Even during the first tentative experiences with boys in camp, nearly twenty years ago, we found that the camps are, first of all, places for attaining a higher and simpler standard of living, for rounding off rough corners, learning to be considerate, to tell the truth and to govern the tem- per, for the simple reason that a boy who fails in these ways is counted useless, and a counselor who fails loses his authority and influence. If the director of a camp does Summer Camps for Boys 173 not retain the respect of his boys, the camp fails; it is im- possible for him to retain either respect or confidence unless his ideals are right; three or four summers will show him in his true colors. The relationship of director and boy is so intimate that unless a man is sincere he had better not attempt to direct a camp. Moral standards of boys' camps are generally as high as the home standards of the boys in camp, or higher; because, as the campers con- stantly live together night and day, there is no hiding place secure from the searching eye of some small boy. In cultivating general morality and kindly behavior the camps are helped chiefly through their usefulness in mak- ing boys strong vitally, in improving their power of diges- tion, in increasing their lung capacity, in letting the sunshine pour upon every portion of their bared bodies. In camp a boy will gain noticeably in muscular strength, and will grow fast in bone and sinew; but the more experi- enced campers know that the long hours of early and sound sleep which follow a day of healthy, happy out-of- door life and work, supplemented by an hour of rest for the growing heart after the midday meal, will impart a degree of nervous vigor and power of resistance to fatigue and disease that competitive athletics and trials of en- durance will fail to give. In most camps growing boys have at least ten hours of sleep at night and a half hour or hour of repose in the early afternoon; their need for sleep arises of course from the constant tax upon the circulation and the heart of the growing body. The food which boys get at camp is often more appetizing than that at home, because camp directors make a business of studying the effect of properly prepared food and know what boys best thrive upon and enjoy. The most common fault is overeating. In the summer time boys do not gain so much in weight as in winter, 174 Education because they are far more active and fat does not accu- mulate. Besides the moral and physical upbuilding of the boy, the camps offer the best of all chances to study real life — the Ufe of the starlit heavens, the voice of the thick woods, the lore of Nature. The city boy is afraid at first of what seems to him silence — silence, because his ear is too ill- trained to hear the music of the soil and its dwellers: he talks much, objects, argues, discusses — a sign of nervous instabiUty and long-continued strain; gradually he grows into harmony with the calm about him, and cheerful good nature replaces ill temper and peevishness. He comes with a wrong conception of values; he has an idea that the land is dependent on its cities; he learns that all the wealth of nations comes first from the soil. Two summers usually suffice to make him a lover of Nature. When he finds that it is the trappers and the farmers who alone can teach him the things he wants to know, he begins to think that somehow the words "jay" and "hayseed" are misfits, and he realizes that these slow- speaking, slow-moving, roughly dressed men have learned to be truly self-reliant and independent, and that he must respect them. This broadening of the mental vision is supplemented now in most of the camps by giving boys tools to make for themselves paddles, canoes and the score of minor conven- iences which campers find useful. Indians used to m.ake themselves as comfortable as they could; they did not sleep on the ground: why should not white boys "imi- tate the best things of the best Indians" and learn to make bow and arrow, tepee and tomahawk, to hunt and fish and trap with homemade implements? So handi- crafts naturally offer a field of usefulness that is also pleas- ure for the boys in camp. Summer Camp for Boys Summer Camps for Boys 175 The best period of a boy's life for him to be in camp is from the age of twelve to the age of seventeen, the most rapid period of body growth and the time when he enjoys the new experiences most keenly. He will gain more from his second summer than from his first, knowing the ropes, and finding his special needs understood better by the director. A camp should be selected the director of which is a man whom you know to be of right ideals, energetic and true in deaUng with moral problems — for this is all-important. He should have a keen sense of fun, should be versed in wood lore, resourceful, patient, self-controlled, and cour- teous. His counselors should all be grown men, prefer- ably college graduates; undergraduates seldom possess enough self-restraint, experience, and ability to work hard, to make their example worthy of imitation or their advice of weight. Boys of eighteen or twenty may be good lead- ers in sports but are not good counselors. The camp itself should be well located, on a height above the water, to avoid dampness, commanding, if possible, a view of hills or mountains — a beautiful view exerts a potent influence on the morale of the camp. Boys behave better when they have beautiful views to look at. The sanitation of the camp must be strict and carefully planned. Any camp where the drainage is into the bathing water should be tabooed. The water supply for drinking must also be beyond any question as to its purity. There should be a competent physician in the camp; it is not sufficient to have one some miles away, for acci- dents requiring immediate care are always liable to hap- pen in the best regulated camp, and in addition there are questions arising continually on which medical judgment is desirable, regarding articles of diet, the length of the 176 Education bathing time, the advisability of certain sports and trips and the like, which require the constant presence of a phy- sician acquainted with each boy. No layman can be of so much service to the boys as a physician in aiding them to form good habits of personal hygiene. Generally speaking, the older the camp the more com- plete its equipment will be and the more chance each camper will have to gain from the life of the woods the experiences he most stands in need of. Nevertheless, a camp recently estabUshed, if forcefully led, will usually be a success from the beginning. In these days the director of a new camp must have had experience as a counselor in an established camp, else he wiU make useless blxmders and gain his knowledge at the cost of the boys committed to his charge. Do not judge by hearsay of any camp, but get as much knowledge of it as you can at first hand. Make the per- sonal acquaintance of the director and form an opinion as unbiased as possible of his character and aims. Learn all that you can of the location of the camp and its personnel, both as to counselors and boys. If you are the father, visit the camp in person beforehand, if possible, but cer- tainly once during the summer, bunking in with the boys. Camps which have nothing to hide will welcome the visit and suggestions from the father of any camper — espe- cially if he can spin a jolly yarn at the camp fire. Of late the common knowledge and experience of camp leaders have crystallized into easily attainable form through camp conferences and the interchange of ideas, and mistakes in sanitation, choice of location and daily regimen, and the failure to obtain a good camp spirit are rarely excusable. Camp leaders welcome an opportunity to help those wishing to devote themselves to boys in camp, realizing that right-principled men are needed in Summer Camps for Boys 177 the work, and that for every boy who goes into camp one summer two will follow the next year. An interesting outcome of the sunamer camps for boys is the establishment of similar camps for girls, of which there are a number ably conducted and successful — although the problems with girls in camp are essentially different as well as more complex and trying. Another striking and recent phase of camping for boys is the winter camp. In this the results are still more sat- isfactory than in the summer camp, because the good influences are of longer duration. In the winter camp such sports as skating, skiing, coasting, tobogganing, and fishing through the ice take the place of summer sports, and book study can be made more effective than in school, because a more complete concentration of mind is attained through better bodily health. In conclusion, the most valuable feature of the camp is its democracy. I know no camp where rich boys herd together as in some private schools — would that there were no camps where poor boys alone are found. In camp, poor and rich lads stripped to their swimming trunks are on an absolute equality; the best man wins. Courage, generosity, good-will, honesty are the touchstones of suc- cess in camp. -^ THE EDUCATION OF BOYS ^ By WILLIAM E. CHANCELLOR PROPOSE to speak of the higher education of boys. Three-quarters of the students in our high schools are girls; and we are fast coming to be a nation whose women are very much better educated than the men, a condition by no means to be desired. Birth is to a large extent fate. A boy's parentage is the most important fact in his career. Heredity spells destiny. Blood tells. The first and greatest of all op- portunities is to be born of good parents. We see this in every department of hfe. In a world where most people are unsuccessful most of the successful individ- uals have had good fathers and mothers. To be started out in the world with healthy, honest, industrious parents of good reputation is altogether the greatest blessing that can come to a human child. Everybody presumes that the boy whose father is a citizen of good standing in his community will himself become a similarly good citizen. I am not talking now of wealth in lands and goods, and bonds and bank deposits, but of that more important wealth, which is a good name well deserved, — that invaluable wealth of character and reputation. But for the boy his birth is the one opportunity for which he can in no wise prepare himself. We must and do respect the facts of parentage, as we do those of the weather and of the seasons. ' From " Education," by kind permission of The Palmer Company, Boston. Copyright, 1903. 178 The Education of Boys 179 Let us praise or condemn no man for his failure, for his wisdom or for his folly, for his righteousness or for his sins, till we know of what parents he came and what chance his birth gave him. The next great opportunity in hfe is the mother's care. Here the child's education begins. Here, too, the child has some little choice of his own whether to respond or not, to obey or disobey, to appreciate or to reject the authority of experience. In the orphan asylums of great cities ninety-eight per cent of all the babies die; but of foundUngs given to individual caretakers in homes only fifteen per cent die, and of httle ones brought up by their mothers only five per cent die in infancy. This means something. Here is the second great fact of Nature, that the mother's care is essential to hfe itself and almost guarantees it. Whether the mother is wise or ignorant makes some difference, it is true, but whether she is wise or ignorant, good or bad, rich or poor, her love for her child keeps him alive. Of this we may be absolutely sure, that every child ought to obey its mother, and that every mother ought to teach her child prompt and unfailing obedience. The child's life and health depend upon this obedience in a world full of dangers to the unwary eyes and feet of our little ones. The next opportunity is much more formal and far less common than that of learning to obey a good mother. Thank God, nearly all mothers are good mothers! If they were not, the race would soon perish. This third opportunity is that of going to school. Now, this is my real subject. But until I made it plain that I regard parentage and home education as vastly more important factors in making a success of hfe than any kind or amount of schooling can be, I was unwilling to discuss the arti- 180 Education ficial opportunities of civilization and preparation in school to seize these opportunities. Perhaps the first thing to ask is, What is an oppor- tunity? It is a common saying that we let opportunities slip and that we do not know an opportunity when we see it. An opportunity is a chance ; it is luck ; it is accident. An opportunity always suggests good fortune. Oppor- tunity is a conjunction of circumstances by which one may improve his condition of life or his equipment for life. Let me give instances that I may be the better understood. I knew a man once who had been an oflSice clerk in a manufacturing establishment. There was a change in the management and he was offered the position of manager of sales at double his former salary. He began the work and failed to do it well. He is once more an office clerk; and it is safe to say that office clerk he will continue for many years. But the man who became manager of sales after him is to-day president of the corporation. That was opportunity. I knew a boy who, after graduation from a high school, was offered an opportimity to go to college with over half his expenses paid. He did not dare to try to earn the less than half of the expenses that remained to be provided. To-day that man is glad to earn ten dollars a week, while many and many another man of equal ability as a boy is to-day a college graduate in charge of important affairs. Of course, now and then even a college graduate fails, but an examination , of the facts shows conclusively that a college education increases one's chances of success ten times. I know a man who once owned a farm where now stands the very business center of a great city. The post-office occupies the site of his farmhouse. An im- The Education of Boys 181 mense office building occupies the site of his barn. But the man who was a farmer there at twenty-five years of age is now at seventy-five years of age in that great city entirely without property and dependent upon relatives. That was opportunity. Not a day goes by that one and all of us do not fail to grasp the opportunity for want of sight to see it and of strength to hold it. My wish is to call attention vigorously to education as the method of giving boys the wisdom to see opportunities and the ability to seize and hold them. The world of affairs in church and government, business, school, profession, is no dead level of equal personalities. There are affairs high and affairs low, affairs big and affairs little, affairs compUcated and affairs simple, affairs important and affairs unimportant. Even in a demo- cratic republic, where we are equal in the eyes of the law and government, there are great careers to be lived, and there are small careers. All that are good are neces- sary to progress and honorable. The money rewards do not measure their true relative importance with each other; nor does the fame attached to some of them, nor the power that they give. The career of the scholar is with the high affairs of knowledge and truth; the career of the manufacturer is with the large affairs of wealth; the career of the statesman is with the complicated affairs of government; the career of the physician is with the important affairs of life and death. But there are other affairs than these. The scholar is surrounded by library and laboratory clerks and supplied with books by printers and with apparatus by craftsmen. The manufacturer needs mechanics, laborers, and helpers. The statesman can do nothing nowadays without reporters and politicians to help him. The physician needs the chemist and the nurse. 182 Education Now what has the education of the school to do with these affairs, great and small? This — that without education even the best born and the best home-trained boy can scarcely hope when he is a full-grown man to be doing the high and complicated tasks of life. I take it for granted that every parent wishes for his boy the success of doing well hard and difficult work, and plenty of it. Nowadays there are many rungs of the ladder of success, and the grades of the schools are the lowest of these rungs. Heredity and home care are the sides of that ladder. In our country to-day formal and systematic education consists of twenty or twenty-two grades, or years. Of these the first two grades are in the kindergarten. The next four are commonly called the primary school. The next four above these are in the grammar school. The boy or girl who has successfully advanced up these grades has done about ten years of work. The next four or five are in the high school or academy. Above these grades are the three or four years of the college, the normal school, or the scientific school. The young man or woman who has been graduated from these schools has done about eighteen years of work. Above these schools of general culture are the various best professional schools of law, medicine, theol- ogy, education, offering three or four years of systematic work. Above these twenty or more grades there are no systematic courses, though the scholar and investi- gator may pursue researches after truth all the years of his fife in the greatest and highest universities. Nor will he ever find any end to truth. Nor will the world ever find any end to its need of truth. If I had time I could multiply instances that would show how all the progress of mankind has been due to the discoveries The Education of Boys 183 of truth by the world's often neglected and even despised truth seekers in science, invention, and philosophy. But what have these grades to do with practical affairs, such as earning wages, farming, running a business, practicing law or medicine or engineering? Nowadays they practically control these affairs. A graduate of a primary school goes to work, let us suppose, at thirteen years of age, the average age that boys drop out of school. What does he know at that age? A little about geography: that the earth is round and that the earth goes around the sun once a year, and that maps tell the location of places upon the earth. A little about history: that this part of the earth was discovered about four centuries ago, and that George Washington and Abraham Lincoln were the greatest Americans. A little about arithmetic: how to add and to subtract, multiply and divide whole numbers and fractions. A little about drawing, so that he may present by a few lines the plan for making a table or a chair. A little reading, so as to be able to read the news in the paper. Such is the nature of the mental equipment of the aver- age American boy who has completed his five or six years of school and is, say, thirteen years of age. When he drops out of school, what is he prepared to do? He may become a cash boy in a store, or an errand boy in an office, or a helper in a mill. If the unions permit, he may become an apprentice to some trade. If he is able to earn three dollars a week he is doing very well. Every grade of schooling we can give the boy after that we are improving his power to see and seize better opportunities than are offered by these lower stages of the economic hfe. It is my opinion, after spending my- self twenty years in school as a student, that every year in grammar, high school, and college is worth twice the 184 Education preceding year in informing the intelligence and in train- ing the character of men. Suppose now that our boy goes on to finish the grammar school. Not every boy has the ability to do this. Edu- cation sifts as well as trains. What does he know at the end of nine or ten years of formal education? In amount it is hard to compare the attainments of primary and of grammar graduates. The latter knows a good deal about American history, about geography, about language. He can read not only the news items, but some of the editorials and the long articles of the paper. Usually he can draw quite well. He knows ten, yes, twenty times as many things as the primary graduate. In arithmetic he has studied the tables of weights and meas- ures and the principles of percentage and interest. He can do all kinds of simple computations in addition, sub- traction, multipUcation, division, in far less time than the primary graduate, and knows the elements of busi- ness arithmetic. He has grown quicker, more accurate, keener, and broader. When he leaves school he has less difficulty in finding an opening, and not only earns more money, but fills his place better and is more ready to rise ia the world. He is fairly well trained for citizen- ship. He is more likely to keep in good company. He is in a fair way to be fit when full grown to hold positions of trust and responsibility in business and poUtics. Most important of all, he is well equipped to learn a trade or to foUow inteUigently some definite line of business. Most of the merchants, most of the mechanics, most of the bankers, most of the successful farmers, have had a grammar-school education, but no more. Looked at merely from the money point of view, the boy who leaves school after the fourth grade does well to earn fifty cents a day, while the boy who finishes the grammar The Education of Boys 185 school often gets a dollar a day at once. The first sum scarcely pays board; the second leaves a margin for clothes, books, church, and recreation. Some boys, however, are sufficiently fortunate to be able to go on and through the high school. One boy in fifteen in America does this. Now this high-school boy has been at school eight years longer than the primary graduate. Is this lost time? Before he is twenty-five years of age the high-school graduate's wages will be twice those of the young man who had the earlier but poorer start in business. And if we had technical high schools the dif- ference would be even greater. One young man in two himdred goes on to and through the college. One in a thousand goes through the professional school. It may fairly be said that completion of the grammar- school course is essential to what we call "success in life. " It is true that in years past, and even in the present generation of men, individuals have succeeded who have not had even a grammar-school education. But every decade that passes sees fewer and fewer men successful who have not the mental training and equipment of the grammar-school graduate. There are two reasons for this. The first is that competition for places and for opportunities is constantly growing keener and severer. Indeed, this competition for work and living wages has grown so keen and severe that workmen in the various trades of carpentry, masonry, plumbing, hat making, etc., have felt it absolutely necessary to form unions for the sake partly of protecting their work and wages from excessive competition. This means that there are too many persons of similar preparation for life. This is very hard for the boys and for their parents, for the limitation of the number of apprentices in the trades organized in unions means lessening the boys' oppor- 186 Education tunities to learn useful and paying handicrafts. If all the mills and all the stores and all the ofl&ces that now employ boys as helpers, messengers, and minor clerks should become organized in unions, the primary and even the grammar-school graduates would not be able to find employment at all. The second reason why it is steadily growing harder for persons to succeed is that life itself is steadily be- coming more complicated and difficult. It requires more ability, character, and education to succeed now- adays than it did even a generation ago. In other words, while there never was a time when there were so many opportunities always open as there are now, these opportunities can neither be understood nor taken ad- vantage of by persons who are not well educated. As a school superintendent, upon whom manufacturers and merchants are all the time calling for boys and young men to fill this or that opening, I see this side of the matter very plainly. Now there is a practical aspect to which I wish to call attention vigorously and fully. It is harder every decade for a boy to go through a grammar school. The studies grow harder and more numerous. It is growing harder to get through the high school, and much harder to get into college. And some parents object to this fact. There is a cause for this steadily increasing difficulty, and this cause lies outside of the school. Life itself is steadily growing harder. In every trade the work grows more difficult. In every profession more and more com- plicated conditions must be met and successfully resolved into their simple factors. We expect more of our fellow men than our ancestors used to expect. A mason does more work in an hour than masons used to do, and he works on a higher building, with thicker walls and more The Education of Boys 187 angles and corners. The fabrics of staple goods to-day are much more complicated and various than they used to be; we expect more colors to be fast and to be beauti- ful than were commonly worked with a hundred years ago. The making of roads has become a science. When disease kills a man nowadays we are apt to say that a better doctor would have saved him. Everybody now- adays expects more of everybody else than our fore- fathers used to expect. The conclusion is obvious — our boys who are to succeed in life must take a longer time in school to prepare for hfe than boys used to take. Run over this hst of a dozen occupations — machinist, engineer, mechanic, plumber, carpenter, decorator, rail- roader, post-office clerk, salesman, farmer, dyer, hatter. Is there any place of importance in any of these occu- pations for a boy under sixteen years of age? Is there really any place for a boy under eighteen years of age? Remember, too, that we expect every man to be not only a wage-earner worth his wages, but also a good and intelligent citizen. Is the grammar-school course too full and too long and too elaborate for any boy who means to be successful in any of these occupations? Does the boy graduate of a grammar school start from too high up the ladder of knowledge to become a good machinist, engineer, carpenter? Again, run over this Ust of occupations — drug clerk, tradesman, bank clerk, foreman, printer, reporter. Is there any place of any importance in any of these lines for a man who as a boy has not had at least a grammar- school education? Would a technical high-school edu- cation be too much as a foundation for entering any of them? We desire our boys to succeed. The desire ought to become a purpose. The purpose ought to become an 188 Education accepted plan. We must recognize that in many lines of effort there are even now too many workers. We must force up every available boy, lest we have a great surplus of laborers on the market who will force the great mass of laborers down. We can get rid of the excessive com- petition for work only by educating as many as possible for new, higher and more difficult kinds of work. The inventors who created the great departments of electri- cal engineering and handicraft did two great things for mankind: they created new markets for labor, relieving to that extent the old overcrowded markets, and they made life itself more comfortable and convenient. Every- thing that we can do to make some boys different from other boys and more intelligent than average boys telps not only the fortunate boy who is well educated, but also the boy who is less educated, since it removes another rival for inferior work and makes the superior worker, whose work itself necessarily benefits others, including the less fortunate. Therefore, I welcome the technical school that makes skilled workmen in new lines in which unions are not necessary, because the workmen are so few that the demand is greater than the supply. I welcome the higher scientific school that opens up new fields for industries and pre- pares for those fields. There is no crowd at the top of any mountain of endeavor. There is no limit to the height to which culture can be developed. There are no bounds to the spread of civilization. The harvest of success and prosperity is always ready for the coming of the man competent to gather it in. The prayer of every parent and every teacher for our boys should be not for opportunity, which calls often to ears that can not hear, but for adequate preparation for the opportunity. To undertake anything before one The Education of Boys 189 has the trained abiUty to carry it out spells failure, that dread word which, once attached to a boy or man, has often blighted his career forever. I close by saying what seems to me not less important than anything else that I have been able to say: one of the very best results of an adequate education for life is the self-understanding which tells us what we ought not to undertake because we are not ready. The boy trained for some opportunity is not likely to undertake work for which he is not fit. The mothers and fathers who can send well-educated boys into the world are not only insuring their success; they are making the world itself better worth hving in for everybody else. A MODEL CITY SCHOOL ^ By DOROTHY CANFIELD HE average American looks up at the name ™, yjrJ over the door of the big building opposite n^^^wU Columbia University and reads: "The Horace '^^*-^^ Mann School." "Ah!" he exclaims, "evi- dently Mr. Mann left a great sum of money to endow the school." Horace Mann, however, was not a milUonaire but the greatest educator America has ever produced, and he left, not money, but a vital ideal of education. Even after the visitor has gone all through this beehive of happy industry, after he knows many of the numberless details of the work, he is most impressed by the fact that the great building has been erected, the thousand children assembled, the many teachers brought together, in an attempt to reaUze an ideal. All American education is striving for an ideal, but the Horace Mann School can urge none of the usual excuses for failure to reach the best. Owing to its unique organization, all forces are eagerly pushing it in the right direction. The most unusual of these forces is Teachers College, the department of the science of education of Columbia University and the largest institution for the advanced training of teachers in the world. Naturally the authorities aim to have the best possible observation school for their students, as they need to see the principles of their profession put into actual practice. In place of the average board of business men, the school 1 From " The World's Work." Copyright, 1905, by Doubleday, Page & Company. 190 A Model City School 191 has a board of supervisors, composed of heads of depart- ments in Teachers College, every one of whom depends for success in his work on the good condition of the school and on knowing all that can be known about the teaching of his subject. The sizable tuition fee, generous gifts and endowments, and the connection with Columbia 'furnish funds, so that the material wants are amply supplied. It is not a question of struggling through obstacles to the best, but of heart-searching inquiry for the best. Teachers College, in order to fulfill its ideal, was obliged to have a school of observation, but as the Horace Mann School grew and prospered it became more and more difficult to keep it in the smooth-running order essential to a model school while the necessary amount of practice teaching was being done by the students. To meet this emergency the Speyer School was created through the generosity of Mr. James Speyer. This has a special mis- sion, beyond its strictly pedagogic connection with Teach- ers College, which is, to illustrate the possibilities of the school as a social center in a community. There all the actual teaching by students of Teachers College is done, and this leaves the huge building containing the Horace Mann School opposite Columbia University as an im- mense object lesson to the swarms of teachers from this country and abroad who congregate in Teachers College. To the children, whom it takes from kindergarten to college, it is a place of eager interests, of healthy routine and of unvarying joy. The comparison which every mid- dle-aged reader of this article can make for himself between the schools of his own generation and this example of their latest and most complete development, will show him in what direction American education is moving. The little fellow in a sailor suit who stands in one of the large, sunny gymnasiums, throwing his whole soul into the 192 Education crisp and inspiring gjmonasium work, does not in the least suspect that, according to the latest and best theories, he is developing his central nervous system as well as his muscles; that he will be able to learn his "number" lesson better because he has learned how to control his arms in a dumb-bell exercise; that every movement he makes has been carefully adapted to his period of development by spectacled professors in laboratories with exquisitely deli- cate apparatus. He does not even notice the serious man in the corner taking notes, but after his stirring half hour's work and his plunge in the big swinoming pool he calls to a comrade, as they form in line to go back to their classroom, "Say, isn't the new gym great?" The little girl carefully measuring the roller of the loom she is manufacturing, and thinking with eager pleasure of the cloth of her own weaving she can show to her mother, does not realize that she is exemplifying the beauty and dignity of work applied to home interests. The big high- school boy, clad in overalls, who watches a furnace in the foundry of the school, is not aware that he has been as- signed to that work as a deliberate corrective to a too lux- urious home life. That group of children Uving for a time the life of the Puritans have no idea that they are carrying out the latest theory of historical study by correlation. Their manual training takes the form of constructing block houses, looms, colonial fireplaces and the like; their drawings are of schoolmates posed in Puritan cos- tume; their geography is a study of New England and its natural features; their reading is of John Alden and Miles Standish; their English compositions are imaginary letters from Puritan boys and girls to friends in England. The family of every Horace Mann child of experience can tell the grade at which a child has arrived by the world in which he lives. The little beginner in the first grade A Model City School 193 lives with imaginary primitive people whose mental proc- esses are not unlike his own. He learns to read in order that he may know of the "primitive child" and the obsta- cles he overcomes. He learns to weave that he may make a blanket for his hero, and to write that he may tell his notions of what he would have done if he had been a cave dweller. He makes moccasins and little Indian shirts and headdresses, and at the end of the year, arrayed in his self-constructed Indian garb, he is a child with no germ of imagination if he does not thrill at the thought of Indian life. Moreover, thanks to the quickening of his whole nature through his interest, he can read and write better than children Used to at the end of the second year of school. In the second grade he becomes pastoral and agricul- tural, makes Pueblo houses, notices the weather, studies the animals needed for his imaginary agricultural pursuits, works in the school greenhouse and the school garden, and generally attaches himself very soUdly to the green earth on which he lives. Your third-grade child hves in old Manhattan of the Dutch days — begins his study of history with the city in which he lives. The fourth graders find in American heroes an introduction to a gathering of fascinating people, though they do not reaUze that their absorbing interest is due to a recognition of the fact that a taste for history must be begun by showing its individual or human side. The fifth grade is all for Alexander and Julius Caesar. On one occasion a big delegation of Horace Mann fifth graders went up the Hudson- River by special invitation to see John Bm-roughs, — their other specialty in that grade is bird lore, — and on the way they gathered in animated groups, discussing with heat the campaigns of Alexander, or "what I 'd have done in his place!" This keen and 194 Education vital interest is the result of cunningly arranged devices to avoid that fatal division, made in all good faith by an American school child, of the nations of the earth into "real men and history men." The professor has devoted himself to an examination of German methods of history study for children, and with these actual New York chil- dren in his mind has adapted and modified those systems into what will best suit them. At every stage of what seems spontaneous interest in a subject the teacher and a professor from Teachers College have held anxious and absorbing conferences over the way the work is going. The Horace Mann child of the sixth grade lives in the Middle Ages, becomes feudal in his very soul. He reads "Ivanhoe," writes medieval compositions, and the pic- tures in his classrooms are of Ufe in the Middle Ages. Coeur de Lion, the Black Prince, and holy Saint Louis are not "history men" to him. It is curious and significant that he learns geography and spelling better because of this stimulus to his whole intellectual activity. The mastery of their mother tongue which these boys and girls possess when they are ready for the high school is a direct refutation of the theory that what is interesting may not be profitable. The feats of arithmetical accuracy which they perform are no less admirable because they have come with the spontaneous unfolding of the child's whole nature. One year something curious in the relationship of the seventy-odd children in the sixth grade was noticed, and an investigation showed that an entire and very real feudal system had grown up. The strongest and most popular boys were "seigneurs," and the others faithfully clung about them as loyal followers, having put hand to hand and promised "to be thy man." The discovery was made through the appeal of a small and weak boy who A Model City School 195 was getting worsted in a tussle over the big push ball in one of the gymnasiums. Stopping a moment, he called to a big boy on the flying rings, "Seigneur Jones! Seigneur Jones! Vassal Robbins needs help!" The appeal was instantly answered by, "All right, vassal. Hold on a minute and I '11 be there." The incongruity of the mix- ture of modern boy slang with the medieval speech showed the vitality of the idea. Every year each class in the Horace Mann is allowed to have two parties, or entertainments, in the big "social room" at the top of the building. Usually the first one is a real party, where children who have been separated all sunamer have a chance to get acquainted again; but the second (coming in the second half year) is nearly always an outgrowth of the pupils' work in school, and is, as a rule, strikingly original. Last year the sixth grade made a play of "Ivanhoe," writing the dialogue themselves and devising the costumes and scenery. The tin for greaves and gauntlets was easily worked in their big manual training rooms outside of school hours, but chain armor threatened to be an im- possible achievement. Innumerable visits were paid to the Metropolitan Museum to study the armor there, and finally the problem was solved. A raid on the basement of a department store was made; and laden with packages of wire-ring dishcloths the sixth grade had armor in plenty. The boy whose historical imagination is dormant, but whose hands are clever, may not realize, as he plans and paints the scenery for a seventh-grade performance of "Julius Caesar," that this manual dexterity is forcing upon his otherwise wandering attention that ancient life he can not learn from a book. The girl who falls constantly a little behind her class in arithmetic and geography and is in a state of listless discouragement is electrified by the dis- 196 Education covery of her talent in harmonizing colors. Does this mean that she is allowed to devote her whole strength to her art work? Not at all; only that the courage, energy, and self-confidence she attains, through her success there, may be turned back in a beneficent reaction on her arith- metic; just as the vigor, accuracy, and self-control learned in the daily gjrmnasium drill is turned on the mastery of that most difficult of arts, English spelling. An attempt is made to avoid what may be termed "pigeonhole learning" — mastering a subject and tucking it carefully away where daily contact cannot give it life, like the boy kept in after school to learn how to spell gone, who wrote it correctly two hundred times, and then in all unconsciousness left a note on the teacher's desk, "I have gorn home." Advantage is taken of the intimate relations of the school, made possible by its- organization, to con- nect every form of thought activity with every other form, so that the quickening of intellectual life may not only be begun, by some one of the varied forms of study, but may be at once communicated to other thought centers. Nature study in the elementary school is an excellent example of this constant effort at correlation. It is a great feature of the work of every grade to turn the keen- ness and accuracy of observation gained by first-hand contact with nature upon problems of the schoolroom. The children have Columbia campus as a place where trees and birds and insects may be studied, and their classrooms are always populated with rabbits, white mice, chickens, squirrels, and the like, in big cages, so that the habits of the commoner animals may be known to these httle city dwellers. The attempt is made to teach how to extract information from a book with the same alert and undeceived vision used on natural objects. One feature of the modern school that has been devel- A Model City School 197 oped to a high degree here is the use of lantern slides for illustrating lessons. For instance, when a class is study- ing Japan, from time to time quantities of slides are brought over from Teachers College and an imaginary journey is taken through the country. Often some mem- ber of the class is charged to prepare the lecture and de- liver it, and the training in fluency and self-possession thus acquired is invaluable. In the study of some historical period slides showing the costumes and manners are shown. In spite of its size the Horace Mann School deUghts more in preserving individuality, the precious difference between child and child, than in any other feature. Classes are small, and trained minds are constantly at work upon the problems of making all systems of grading and the selection of studies as flexible as possible, while preserving a thoroughly firm framework of organization. The really wise pedagogue never forgets the child who was in a towering rage and climbed upon the couch kicking and spitting hke a Uttle fury. His mother looked at him sadly and said, "Why, what naughty devil has entered into my little boy?" Sitting up, indignantly, with tears of wrath and outraged originality streaming down his face, the little boy cried, "The kicking may come from the devil, but the spitting was my own idea!" Those "own ideas" are eagerly welcomed by educators interested in the "whole child," rather than in the "spelling child" or the "sum-doing child." A check to undue openness to new pedagogic ideas is the merciful provision of Providence whereby every child has not only one teacher, but two parents. The very large body of intelligent patrons, most of them professional men, who have the keenest interest in the well-balanced development of their children would form a soUd and im- passable barrier to the adoption of fads. Several times a 198 Education year parents, teachers, and oflBcials come together for an informal discussion of educational matters. little children, the world over, are less easily com- pressed into uniform molds than those of larger growth, and consequently it is more a problem for high schools than for elementary schools to maintain the discipline and the stimulus which come from large numbers of pupils together, while caring for the individual student who is different from the rest. Private preparatory schools are accused of pampering weak students. Modern pubhc high schools, by their very organization, are obliged to set to work, somewhat brutally, on the principle of the sur- vival of the fittest. In this question, as in most questions, the Horace Mann High School occupies middle ground. It must prepare for college, like all preparatory schools, so that it can not be too indulgent to weak or slow students. Against this practical necessity is set the eagerness of the educational experts connected with the school to try the innumerable keys to a student's mind which a thoroughly modem high-school curriculiun provides. If classical instruction falls on deaf ears there are the big laboratories of science with trained teachers alert to see promise of scientific minds, even if the acquisition of fact be small at first. Shop work and the handling of tools may be the method by which a boy learns cause and effect and the necessity for accuracy. This extreme flexibility of organization, whereby a stu- dent is shifted and changed till he finds his proper niche, is not attained in a large high school without a determined battle to retain systematic organization on the one hand and to avoid red tape on the other. With plenty of money, an independent position, no political interference and all oflicials united in the common aim of perfecting method. H X m < O c z a en o I o o r (0 ^ m U) 01 i 1 "l*^ K>' ■-? 9 1 * II 'i \ Ip' if] ■■ ■ W^ iyii ■ I i' ^ '■ ■ 1 . \ ^ ^^' / 1 ■ i i 1 id i i -- * 1 1 A Model City School 199 it is possible to realize more ideals than in schools partly dependent on trustees or school boards not composed of practical educators. A special teacher is kept constantly busy coaching those who are, for some reason, a little behind the class work. A week's absence is followed by careful attention to the student's work till the normal is again reached. There is a supply, practically inexhaustible, of students of Teachers College who are only too glad to teach special classes or etudents for the sake of the practice. The high school is among the very few preparatory schools in the country where college preparatory work is combined with a full course of manual training. Another phase of the cult of the "whole child" so eagerly worshiped at the Horace Mann is the great number of activities out- side the purely school work, which are encouraged as ex- pressions of individual initiative. Basketball, handball, bowUng, and swimming contests are of daily occurrence, and the big gymnasium building is alive through all of its five stories with "athletic events, " as the students delight to call them, in imitation of the doings in the Columbia gymnasiimi across the street. But the school building itself is not deserted when classes are over. The Junior Literary Society may be giving a play on the top floor; the mandolin club rehearsing in a vacant classroom on the fourth floor; the chess club decid- ing the championship of New York among "prep, schools" on the third; the fifth grade may be rehearsing a Norse drama, written by one of its members, on the second; the school orchestra practicing in the big auditorium on the main floor, while from the front door the fifth-grade bird club may be setting out gaily for bird observations in Cen- tral Park. The sixteen-year-old editors of the high-school paper may be gravely discussing the relative value of man- 200 Education uscripts submitted in a prize contest, and the seventh- grade "reporters" for the elementary school magazine are keeping eyes open for all happenings of interest outside their regular work. No wonder the children love the big building. In these days, when papers are filled with reactionary talk against the modern "extras" in education, it is signifi- cant to find them so highly valued in a school which may be considered, owing to unusually favorable conditions, as several years in advance of similar institutions. Here is no question of theories by pedagogues, but of actual test of what are sometimes called "fads" and of actual proof of their value when properly conducted. The great devel- opment of activities in the Horace Mann outside of regular school work goes to show that the tendency toward this in other schools is increasing. In the utterly mixed life of the average American city it is certainly of value to have the varying interests of the children and young people grouped about one center. Formerly the Church supplied this want, but in these cos- mopolitan days of mixed and infinitely diversified creeds, and no creeds at all, the school seems destined to play this role. Any one more than thirty can remember the utterly deserted and lonely aspect of his school building after "lessons" were over. It was a real ordeal to go back through the echoing and unfamiliar corridors for a forgotten book. That condition was significant of the separation of the school from his real life. One of the most interest- ing features of modern education is the absorption by the school of activities formerly exercised elsewhere, but which, in the period of national transition from a simple to a complex life, were in danger of being lost altogether. It is said constantly of the Horace Mann School that it is A Model City School 201 a little world complete in all its elements — a world of carefully planned occupations where every inhabitant has a chance for influence and profitable enterprise. A visitor from Chile exclaimed one day, "But how can you dare trust the children to do so many things alone? Where do they get the initiative and the continuity of purpose to carry out long and difficult undertakings?" The old rhyme of "Mother, may I go out to swim?" was quoted at him, but naturally escaped the Chilean compre- hension, so that a fuller explanation was needed. "They learn to do things alone, by doing them alone — by stand- ing on their own feet, even if at first they cannot keep their balance. And the reason we are so eager to teach them to walk quite alone is that in our own country, as it is organ- ized, every person must decide himself on the path he wishes to follow, and walk his own way therein, for there is no one who will help him." There are constant streams of visitors at the school, from every corner of the globe; from Europe, all varieties, from Swedish professors to Italian teaching nuns; from South America; from Australia; from India; many from England, and very many from Japan. Their conaments are various, but with one accord they exclaim over the evident delight of the students in their work. English people often criticize this feature, saying that there can be but shght discipline in acquiring knowl- edge with so little pain, and that no great amount of knowledge can be thus acquired. The fact that it is, after all, merely a big preparatory school which comes up to the standards of college entrance examination and public-school curricula answers the lat- ter criticism. To the first criticism the school must plead guilty. There is very little pain connected with learning in its walls. A dialogue of late occurrence will show this. 202 Education An anxious mother arrived at school the morning of a great blizzard to make sure that her children reached home in safety. One of the school oflScials met her in the hall and exclaimed, "Why, Mrs. , you don't mean to say your children came to school this dreadful day! How did you happen to let them venture out?" To which Mrs. , hurrying by, answered in exasperated wrath at her own discomfort and anxiety, "Let them come! How could I help it! I 'd like to see a Horace Mann child you could keep away from school!" TEACHING THE BLIND ^ By clarence HAWKES ^^^^^N a bright autumnal afternoon, about the ■^si \\mM middle of September, a pale, haggard youth which was winding in and out through the interminable, crooked streets of Boston, on its way from the North Station to South Boston. This morning the boy had left home and the home associations to go away to the city and become a pupil in the great school of which he had heard considerable since the accident that had put him in another world, as it were. When the old stagecoach had rumbled up to the door, and he had said good-by, it was to the childish mind, full of grief and foreboding, the last good-by, for he had no kind of notion that the school to which his parents were sending him could untangle the broken skein of his Ufe, and much less mend any of the broken strands. So with a strange apathy he journeyed to his new field of activities. But, to tell the truth, he did not really expect any activity, for he had heard the school called an asylum for the Blind, so he expected only the advantage of a home that would be adapted to the wants of the sightless. The accident that had plunged him into this abyss of gloom had so chilled his hope and curtailed his scope of life interest that he had almost no reasonable ground ' By permission of the Author and "Th? Outlook." Copyright, 1908. 203 204 Education for dreams of a future full of achievements and of busy days that by their very fullness would be joyous. When we stop to consider, is it any wonder that this boy, who was only a child, had lost heart? To be sud- denly confronted at the age of thirteen with an abyss that seemed fairly impassable; to have the entire struc- ture of Ufe upon which he had been building suddenly crumble and fall to earth; to be asked to go forward in the world's activities bereft of a sense which the rest of the world uses every moment of its waking hours — the burden laid upon the child had been too much, and so, like Rose Terry Cooke's "Jericho Jim," he would crawl away into some out-of-the-way comer of the great school and die of a broken heart. Presently the car stopped, and the boy alighted and passed up an interminable flight of stone steps through the portals that were for the next five years to be home to this outcast that the hurrying, bustling pubUc school was too busy to educate or develop. The first thing that impressed, or rather astonished, the newcomer to Perkins Institute was that he had not come to an asylum or a home, but to an exceptionally busy hive, which fairly hummed with industry. It was the first day of the new year, and there were hearty handshakes and vacation chatter going on among the old pupils, and a cordial greeting for the newcomer, who was kept very busy for the first few hours answering ques- tions as to his age, residence, and the cause of his blindness. Finally, one of the old pupils took the stranger in tow, and showed him over the enormous six-story building, covering an entire square. The new boy was first conducted through spacious school and reading rooms and shown some of the appara- tus which he would use in the future. To his uninitiated Teaching the Blind 205 fingers the raised print felt in the large volumes like a hetchel, or rasp. It was merely a strange roughness, with no meaning in it. He was then shown the type slates with which examples in arithmetic and algebra were deciphered, but this too seemed hopelessly beyond him. Then he was shown one of the large dissected maps with each state sawed out of half-inch board, the whole fitting together hke a puzzle. "This is the map of the United States, " said the guide. The new boy's hands wandered Ustlessly over it, con- fused by the many cracks between the blocks, which really represented state hues, and also by the brass- headed tacks that showed cities. "This place where the map is lower is the Atlantic Ocean," explained the guide. Then the boy's fingers touched a long, narrow block, set in the Atlantic Ocean, to the southeast of the mainland. He had been clutching about in the Caribbean Sea, and had come upon the Pearl of the Antilles. His fingers trembled so that he could scarcely discern the outUne of the island; then he fairly shouted, "I 've found Cuba, I 've found Cuba." Columbus himself could n't have been more proud when he sailed into the harbor of what is now Santiago than was the boy. To his imprisoned mind he had really found Cuba. He had seen a glimmer of light, and it had awakened in his childish heart longings and aspirations that he thought had been buried forever. The Hght was very feeble — to put one's hand upon a block of wood and recognize Cuba; yet it was the first gtep. The first cable had been attached by which this life would be towed back to its moorings. From the schoolrooms the two went to the workshop, where chair caning, mattress making, and upholstery were taught. All of this amazed the newcomer. 206 Education "I should think you would hit your fingers when you drive tacks," he ventured. "We do at first," replied the guide, "but we soon learn how much pleasanter it is to hit the tack than oiu- fingers, and so give up the latter practice." From the workshops they went to the musical depart- ment, where sixty pianos and half as many band instru- ments were making pandemonium. From this long corridor, with music rooms on either side, they went into the historic chapel of Perkins Institute, where so many great men and women have spoken, and which is always such an inspiration to the graduate. One of the first memorable functions that the new pupil attended in the chapel was the birthday party for Laura Bridgman, her half-century anniversary. Some of her friends from the city, among them Philfips Brooks, Dr. Minot J. Savage, James Freeman Clarke, and others, came bringing messages of congratulation and praise for this wonderful life that had been rescued from oblivion by the genius of Dr. Samuel G. Howe, one of the world's most remarkable educators and heroes. This was Lavira's last birthday, for the very beginning of the following year's first school term the pupils assem- bled in the old chapel to hear the funeral addresses of Dr. Edward Everett Hale and others over the remains of this remarkable woman. Once the new pupil fully understood that the treasures that he had lost in that world of light and joy could in a measure be regained if he apphed himself to breaking down the barriers, no task was too hard, and the days, were all too short in which to accomplish the things that he wished to do. To learn raised print and again to have free access to the world of books, to which he had become strongly Teaching the Blind 207 attached even at the age of thirteen, to master braille and be able to write and to read his own writing, and to be again a seeker at the great storehouse of the world's knowledge, — this was his ambition. He read not only all through the school hours but also through all the hours of recreation, and unwisely took books to bed with him that he might get at the wonderful treasures more rapidly. Even at the best, reading by touch is rather slow, and the bhnd reader must spend two or three hours in mastering that which the seeing student will master in a single hour. But if patience will accomplish anything, — and I firmly beUeve that it will accomplish wonders, — the boy was wonderfully blest, for he had the sterUng virtue of pa- tience, to which all bhnd people have to add perseverance and pluck. In fact, all three go together, and they are the taUsman of every successful Ufe. The more our boy became acquainted with the inner life of the great school the more wonderful it seemed. Labor is really the only cure for sorrow, and life at this school is so planned that there are no idle hours. From eight o'clock in the morning until six at night, in all departments, there is a ceaseless hum of industry. School hours and those of manual labor are so alternated that each is a pleasant relief from the other. There was no place in the whole institution where one could so effectually clear the cobwebs from his brain as in the long, low gymnasium, where an hour of each day was spent. Here dumb-bell drills, calisthenics, manual of arms, pulley-weight exercises, and the like were in- dulged in. The last few minutes of the gymnasium hour were usually spent in some kind of frolic, and this was the best of all. The most popular of these asides was the tug of war. 208 Education This was always resorted to on all occasions of contest, such as municipal and state elections. Then all the Re- publicans would line up on one end of the rope and the Democrats on the other, and the election would be settled then and there. It did not matter much how things went at the polls after this tug of war had been pulled off. There was also pleasant diversion for the older boys in a debating club, which met once a week. It bore the dignified name of the Senate, and all the great questions of the day, such as the tariff, ship subsidy, land tax, and many others were thrashed out in this body in much shorter time than they were in the real Senate whose dignity we sought to emulate. There were fine lectures and concerts in the chapel during the winter season, while many of the opera houses and musical organizations in Boston kindly remembered the pupils at the sightless school with tickets. From such sources as these the imagination was kindled, and that innate craving for the higher life, a desire for spiritual truth and beauty, was satisfied. Besides all this, one of the most intellectual women of Boston really belonged to us, for Mrs. Julia Ward Howe was the wife of Samuel G. Howe, the school's founder, and his son-in-law, Mr. Anagnos, was our beloved super- intendent, so Mrs. Howe came often to the school to read to us in the chapel. Many a pleasant hour the writer recalls, listening to her well-modulated voice as she read to us from the Brownings or Tennyson or some other equally beloved classic. With such an interpreter how could we fail to grasp the beauty of the poet's message? Many of Mrs. Howe's own choice poems we heard while they were still in manuscript. This confidence we always appreciated. Teaching the Blind 209 There were other illustrious friends who came often to give us of their best thoughts, such as Phillips Brooks, James Freeman Clarke, Minot J. Savage, and many others, to whom the writer still feels grateful for some thought that has gone with him through many years. The year that our boy entered this school a young lady graduated from it, whose name was destined to be within a few years upon all tongues, as she became the teacher of Helen Keller. Her name was Annie Mans- field Sullivan. She was valedictorian of her class, and a great favorite with her classmates and teachers. Mr, Anagnos always took his children, as he called us, iiito his confidence, and we were informed from time to time of the little deaf and dumb girl down in Alabama whose imprisoned spirit Miss Sullivan had gone to liber- ate. Of course Miss Sullivan had Dr. Howe's experience with Laura Bridgman as a guide in her difficult task, but in addition to that she had a wonderful adaptation to the work. At the end of her first year of labor with Helen Keller, Mr. Anagnos gave us a full account of the results, and concluded by saying that this wonderful little Alabama girl would be brought to our own roof the following year, and taught at the girls' department of the school. This gave us a new and special interest in Helen. To have this marvelous work going on in our own family, as we considered it, was a great privilege, for now we could watch the work even more closely than before. One spring morning in 1889 I was walking in the yard when one of the teachers came up to me and with much excitement told me that in that morning's Boston "Jour- nal," which she held in her hand, was an account of how Helen Keller had been taught to speak, at the Horace Mann School for the Deaf in Boston. 210 Education For several weeks Helen had been laboring to master speech, and her only guide for articulation was gained from putting her fingers on the lips and throats of others while they pronounced words and syllables slowly. To the uninitiated it seemed like a hopeless task, but the results were amazing. Shortly after Miss Keller had mastered speech, a concert was given in the chapel to the pupils by several of Boston's most famous vocalists. Toward the close of the concert Helen asked if she might place her hand upon the throat and Ups of some one of the singers while a song was being sung. Mr. Parker, Boston's lyric tenor, gladly offered his services, and took high C, to Miss Keller's evident delight. It had been planned to keep the fact of Helen's vocal accomplishments as a surprise to her people in Alabama, but the ubiquitous reporter had spoiled this fun, though he secured a good "scoop" for his paper. Although I left Perkins Institute in 1890, yet my interest in Helen Keller has grown with the years. About four years ago I visited her in Cambridge, while she was still pm-suing her studies at Radcliffe. As I sat on a couch beside her while we conversed, I could not but feel how sublime a thing her courage was. Even though the methods by means of which she had been taught were fully understood by me, yet the result seemed no Jess than a miracle. We talked for an hour without an interpreter. She placed her fingers upon my lips and throat, and by talking slowly and distinctly she was able to get every word, which she repeated over after me to make sure that she had my meaning. Among other things, she told me how she had vis- ited President Roosevelt shortly before, and they two had chatted together in the same manner without an interpreter. During the pleasant hour I spent with her Teaching the Blind 211 we talked of nearly everything imaginable; among other subjects that I recall were Dante and the other ItaUan poets, Goethe, philosophy. Miss Keller's college life, books and authors, the education of the blind, and of Miss Keller's books, particularly the story of her life which ''The Ladies' Home Journal" had been printing. At the close of a very pleasant visit Helen wrote my name in a copy of her wonderful httle book, "Optimism," and gave it to me. Miss Keller has always been deeply interested in the life and work of the blind, and many, times she has been before the Massachusetts legislature and before the Commission for the Education of the Adult Blind, of which she was a member, to argue in behalf of her thou- sands of bUnd associates. No better articles have ever been written upon the life and aspirations of the sightless than those which from time to time Miss Keller's brain has given to the world. To me Helen Keller will always be the most interest- ing pupil who ever went out of the portals of Perkins Institute. Although her case may not be quite typical of the life at the school, yet she was one of the great family in the old undergraduate days; so I always think of her as a part of the school. Life at Perkins Institute is not an isolated, aimless existence, but a very intimate struggle after knowledge and the acquirement of such trades and professions as shall make its graduates helpful, self-supporting citizens. These blind students do not live in a world apart, as is sometimes thought, but in closest touch with the world as it is pictured in the columns of the daily papers, which they have read to them each evening. In my own days the Boston "Transcript" was our favorite. The latest magazines and the new novels are also 212 Education taken in turn, as fast as reading aloud will permit. Often mock elections are held at the school, and the ballot is sometimes printed in raised type, in order that the pupils may get a good idea of the responsibiUty of American citizenship. There are amusements, too, and games, which make the winter season pass quickly. Concerts and lectures in the city vie with opera and oratorio music, and usu- ally each week there is a concert or lecture in the home chapel. Saturday afternoon is a half-holiday, and when the weather is fine the spacious grounds and the piazzas swarm with laughing merrymakers eager for a frohc or some out-of-door game; but if it is too cold they will be found in the sitting-rooms playing whist or checkers, or perhaps chess, while some may be reading books or looking over next week's lessons. So, while the public schools wrestle with Latin, Greek, and the sciences, the pupils at old Perkins struggle with Csesar and the Odyssey. For football and baseball they substitute many ingenious games and frolics in the gym- nasixun. Thus both the seeing and the sightless youth are looking for life's rainbow, even if they do not go in quest of the pot of gold at the end of the bright arch. TEACHING THE DEAF^ By JOHN ALBERT MACY lURIOUSLY the education of the blind pre- sents no more complex problems than the education of those who see. The bUnd them- selves insist that they can meet the seeing on equal terms. What they need is not so much book edu- cation as industrial training to make them self-supporting. The education of the deaf, on the other hand, presents great difficulties. The first school for the deaf in the United States was a boarding school opened in 1817. To-day there are fifty- seven boarding schools. The first permanent day school for the deaf was the Horace Mann School in Boston. The present head of this school is Miss Sarah Fuller, who gave Helen Keller her first lessons in articulation, in speech uttered with the lips. To-day there are at least forty- four public day schools. Most of these are supported by the state or by endowmeE t or by denominational societies. Besides these, there are many private schools attended by pupils who can aflFord to pay for more individual instruc- tion than is possible in a pubUc school. A good example is the Wright Oral School in New York. According to the report of the Volta Bureau in Wash- ington, which was founded by Dr. Alexander Graham Bell for the increase and diffusion of knowledge relating to the deaf, there were in 1900 more than a hundred and From " The World's Work." Copyright, 1903, by Doubleday, Page «fe Company. 213 214 Education twenty schools in America with an attendance of nearly eleven thousand pupils. The methods of teaching the deaf are various combi- nations of three ways of communication. There is much contention among teachers as to what method is best by itself or best in combination with others. The three methods are: by signs, by the manual alphabet, and by oral language, which the deaf child learns by reading the hps. The sign language is a system of gestures, a pantomime capable of great beauty and of some development in the expression of ideas. Every deaf child naturally gesticu- lates, trying to express his rudimentary thoughts by move- ments of his hands and his head. In the belief that he was allying himself with Nature, the "good Abb6 de I'Ep^e," one of the greatest teachers of the deaf in the eighteenth centm-y, codified and extended the gestural signs of the deaf into a systematic language. To see a beautiful deaf woman "recite" the Lord's Prayer in signs is to see such poetry of action as the greatest actor can hardly rival. Yet, however beautiful it may be, the sign language is an artificial medium of communication, limited in its power to discriminate between ideas. As far as it has structure it resembles French, and even in the simplest sentences the sign language translated into EngUsh be- comes a dislocated patois, naive and barbarous, and quite lacking in those racial and idiomatic elements which are the blood and bone of a living language. Most ad- vanced teachers of the deaf discountenance its use. It keeps the deaf from learning English or any other national tongue; it is intelhgible only to the deaf, and so tends to keep them by themselves, separated from the stimulating society of the hearing; and it is above all inadequate for a civilized human being. Teaching the Deaf 215 The second method of teaching the deaf is by means of the manual alphabet. This is the simple, single-handed alphabet which any one may learn in a few minutes and use rapidly after a few days of practice. The effect of spelling with the manual alphabet is precisely that of substituting for the written or printed letter a large letter as plain as the capitals on a billboard, not hard for the deaf-bhnd person to feel with the fingers, and easy to make and unmake rapidly. Hold up your clenched fist and you are saying "S"; the open palm with the thumb across it is "B"; cross your fingers as children do when they are playing tag and you have "R." The other letters are equally simple, and some of them resemble the shape of the printed letter. By the manual alphabet alone Miss Sullivan educated Helen Keller, though in the first few weeks she made use of every natural gesture that Helen had found for herself. In the oral method the movements of the mouth and throat in uttering words are in large part visible to the eye. With training, a deaf child, or a person who has become deaf late in life, may, by watching the lips of the speaker, learn to distinguish nearly all the shades of dif- ference between spoken words. The deaf child who has never heard language is first taught to observe the posi- tion of his teacher's mouth while the teacher utters ele- mentary sounds. Then, with the aid of a looking-glass and diagrams, and by the sense of touch, the pupil arranges his organs of speech in imitation of those of his teacher. So he progresses until he learns to say whole sentences, to read new words directly from another's lips, and to pro- nounce words that he reads in books. For, of course, reading and writing form a large part of the training of a deaf child; whatever method is used to teach him. 216 Education The pure oral method is advocated by many distin- guished teachers, among them Dr. Alexander Graham Bell, and the method is growing in favor. Miss Sullivan, who must be regarded as one of the greatest authorities, not only because of her unique success with Helen Keller but also because of her experience with other teachers and pupils in the Wright Oral School and elsewhere, does not believe in any one method to the exclusion of all others. She urges the teacher of the deaf child to avail himself of every means possible to get at the child's intelligence. When she approached her difficult task in 1887 she made effective use of Helen Keller's natural gestures. But as she poured into her pupil's hand a day-long stream of words, English words in English sentences, and so fur- nished an equivalent of what the hearing child gets through his ears from the talk of his nurse, his mother, and his playmates, Helen Keller abandoned gestures of her own accord. Certainly Miss Sullivan never tried to teach her more gestures. To the pure oral system Miss Sullivan and other teach- ers of the deaf make this objection : reading the Ups is a great strain on the attention, and the little child who knows not what he is doing or for what end he is doing it is put to needless suffering as he stands straining his eyes in mute wonder at the lip pantomime of his teacher. If the child is given the manual alphabet first, and through its large, easy code gets started on his way, then he will know what language is, and when he begins to learn speech he will have the inspiration of a goal worth attaining to hold him to his labors and to pay for his suffering. Helen Keller was known all over the world as an unusu- ally well-educated child long before she learned to speak. When she took her first lessons in articulation, she knew already what speech was for; indeed, she had herself Teaching the Deaf 217 insisted on taking the lessons. Speech came to her as an added accomplishment — a new equipment after the manual alphabet had taken her miles along the road. What methods are best and how they may be modified and most skillfully pursued it is not the chief purpose of this paper to discuss. It is enough to emphasize what so few people know and what Helen Keller's autobiography is proclaiming to readers who might otherwise never hear of the education of the deaf, that in our century deaf no longer means deaf and dumb. How little this great fact is a matter of common knowledge is shown by the persist- ency with which newspapers speak of Miss Keller as "deaf, dumb, and blind." She has not been dumb for thirteen years. Every deaf child who is taken young enough, before the imnourished mind has shriveled and hardened to inertness, even to imbecility, can be taught language, and he can be taught to speak aloud. It is poor speech, to be sure. The deaf have unvaried, often discordant, voices. Even Helen Keller, whose voice is sweet and deUghtful, does not always speak plainly, and some do not understand her at first. But in eleven lessons, which extended over about six weeks and occupied ten hours in all, she learned to say words involving all the elementary sounds, and she learned by touching the Ups with her fingers. True, her case is not one by which to measure the Hke- lihood of success for all deaf children. She has the courage of ten. All the gifts of Heaven except sight and hearing seem to be hers — above all, the supreme gift of a teacher whose genius is not equaled in a decade. But if Helen Keller, with no sight to see the fine play of the Hps and the throat, learned to speak, then every deaf child who has sound eyes in a sound body can learn to send forth from his Ups words sufficiently like the words we speak. 218 Education words which carry half the joy and half the business of the world. In every state in the Union deaf children who are not in school sit in silence and ignorance because their parents do not know what to do for them and the state has not sought them out. A poor woman in North Carolina wrote to a lady in Boston who is engaged in various chari- table enterprises. The letter is a loophole through which we may see a condition of things which an extension of popular knowledge about the deaf will change to the bot- tom. The woman has two deaf children. The older is a girl of ten, at school, the mother writes, "a hundred and forty miles away" (probably the state school for the deaf at Raleigh or that at Morganton) . The little boy of seven is at home, and has not been taught. When his sister returned for a holiday she tried to teach the little fellow the manual alphabet which she had learned at school. The mother is ignorant. She wants to know what to do and asks in a pitiful way for books. The obvious thing is to advise this woman to write at once to the superintendent of one of the state schools. He may help her or he may not be able to do anything. His power to assist depends on how liberally the legisla- ture has provided him with means and equipment to look after the deaf children of his state. There is, however, another thing to write to this woman: Learn the manual alphabet, and let every member of the family learn it, and as many of the child's playmates as can be induced to try this interesting play of the fingers. Talk with it at table, and that little boy is almost sure to pick up a word or two at a time and make them on his fingers, just as the hearing child begins to babble. AMERICAN TEACHING AROUND THE WORLD 1 By EDGAR ALLEN FORBES HE poet who loudest and best sings the glories of the English has outUned their over-seas policy in this way: They terribly carpet the earth with dead, and before their cannon cool They walk unarmed by twos and threes to call the living to school. Mr. Kjpling had Egypt in naind, and the founding of Gordon College at Khartum was his inspiration. He did not consider it worth while to say that Kitchener's army (which did the "carpeting") marched past more than a hundred American schools before it reached the junction of the Blue and the White Nile. United States soldiers have never strewn Egypt with dead, but our mission teach- ers have called more of its living to school than even Lord Cromer did in his long and constructive reign. When an American poet comes whose soul shall be moved by great achievements, we also shall have some brave singing, and the American teacher as an educational empire builder will be one of his themes. While we await his coming, hear the story in prose. If a man in quest of material for an American educa- tional exhibit were to sail out of San Francisco Bay with a phonograph recorder, he would come up on the other side at Sandy Hook with a polyglot collection of records that would give the people of the United States a new con- ception of their part in the world's advance toward light. ' By kind permission of the Author. 219 220 Education His audience might hear a spelling class recite in the tune- ful Hawaiian tongue or listen to Moros, Tagalogs, and Igorrotes reading from the same McGuffey's Reader. A change/)f records might bring the sound of little Japanese reciting geography, or of Chinese repeating the multipli- cation table in a dozen dialects. Another record would tell in quaint Siamese the difference between a transitive and an intransitive verb, or conjugate the verb "to be" in any one of the languages of India. One might hear a professor from Pennsylvania lecturing on anatomy to a class of young men in the ancient kingdom of Darius; or a young woman from Massachusetts explaining the myster- ies of an eclipse to a group of girls in Constantinople; or a Princeton man telling in Arabic the relation between a major and a minor premise. Manual-training teachers would recognize the sound of hammer and plane from the headwaters of the Nile and of the Euphrates, the ring of an anvil on the southern slopes of the Himalayas, or the himi of a circular saw on the Congo or the Niger. And, when the audience had Hstened to all this and "My Coimtry, 't is of Thee" in Eskimo and in Spanish, the exhibit of American teaching would have only begun. In 1907 it was shown that in nine years the Americans had more than doubled the number of schools in Porto Rico. We have pushed out the Porto Rican's horizon and opened up new vistas of life. We have not made such a transformation in the Hawaiians, for the simple reason that when they came under the American flag their per- centage of Uteracy was almost as good as ours. They were a nation of educated men and women, with colleges and seminaries and industrial schools, and with primary schools scattered all over the Hawaiian group. But all this machinery of civilization had been installed and kept in motion for three-quarters of a century by American Teaching Around the World 221 American teachers, after all; for the American Board of Missions began its work there in 1820. The public school at Lahainaluna began as a mission school more than seventy years ago, and most of the higher institutions — such as Oahu College, the oldest college west of the Rockies, — had similar beginnings. One American woman, Miss Ogden, trained more than a thousand Hawaiian girls for lives of usefulness, and did her work as earnestly as if she had foreseen that these girlswould become the mothers of a generation of American citizens. In the public and private schools of Hawaii to-day there are more' than twenty thousand children — Hawaiians, Portuguese, Japanese, Chinese, Americans, Porto Ricans, Germans, British, Scandinavians, and other nationali- ties. There are two school buildings that cost nearly fifty thousand dollars each and an agricultural and indus- trial college is projected. That the training is practical and progressive under the American regime is shown by the Royal School in Honolulu. It is organized as a " school city," with a mayor, a board of aldermen, and regular municipal departments. Police court is held daily, with Toyoichi Nakamura as judge and Sam Smith as county attorney. Sheriff Henry Aki reports the following arrests during one week in September: Fighting, six; disobedience, three; truancy, two; playing in line, eleven; stealing, two; smoking, two. The reports of the "chief sanitary inspec- tor" and of the "superintendent of public works" seem to show that the offenders worked out their sentences on what corresponds to the municipal rock pile. Alaska is another territory where the missionary teacher preceded the public school. The northernmost school in America — Point Barrow, on the Arctic Ocean — is the outgrowth of a mission station. Dr. Sheldon Jackson, for more than twenty years in charge of educa- 222 Education tion in Alaska, is a Presbyterian minister; and the super- intendent of the northern schools, Mr. W. T. Lopp, whose district has a thousand miles of Arctic coast line, was formerly a missionary. He has a medal of honor from Congress in recognition of conspicuous heroism. When Alaska was purchased from Russia, in 1867, the natives around Point Barrow were so wild and lawless that shipwrecked sailors preferred to trust the mercy of the frozen sea. In the eighties an American army officer in charge of a polar station at Barrow found it expedient to build a tiuret and fortify it with cannon. But the mission teachers brought about such a transformation that when eight whaling ships were wrecked off the coast in the nineties, the rescue of f om* hundred American seamen was made possible by a generous sacrifice on the part of these natives, who gave up their only reindeer herd. Irrigating streams are not more vital to the Western deserts than are reindeer to northern Alaska, yet Congress could not see this until Dr. Jackson had gone out among his friends and raised the two thousand dollars necessary to make the first experiment. Curiously enough, reindeer breeding is now a branch of the Bureau of Education, and the reindeer is the main dependence of the natives for food and trans- portation. During the year ended in June, 1907, fifty-two public and many mission schools were maintained in Alaska, industrial training receiving the emphasis. The next year the appropriation was doubled. The new school- houses now being erected in isolated districts have a new feature — a hospital ward in which the teacher wiU be physician and nurse. There is probably no region any- where in the world where such a large demand is made upon the devotion and courage and physical endurance of school-teachers. American Teaching Around the World 223 The Philippines brought to us a series of educational problems entirely different from those of any other new possession. Statesmen and others who are disgruntled over American rule will find the annual school reports little suited for their campaign documents. The thunder- ing echoes of Manila Bay had scarcely died away before our army officers had the Manila school bells ringing; and before the machinery of insular government was in place, Dr. F. W. Atkinson had laid out a system of public in- struction such as no colony ever had before. To organize and conduct the schools until a supply of native teachers could be trained, and then to act as supervisors of districts, he made an appeal for the best teachers that the United States could furnish. The transport "Thomas" sailed in the summer of 1901 with five hundred trained young men and women. Never in the history of colonial government was such another cargo sent to sea. These and the other American teachers did a pecuHarly difficult work and did it so well that a commanding general estimated the restraining influence of fifty teachers in a disaffected province to be equal to that of a regiment of troops. They were much more than teachers; they were the exponents of Western civilization. Scattered by ones and twos throughout the archipelago — among Tagalogs, Igorrotes, Negritos, and Moros — they lived in huts, ate native food, and braved the ladrone's spear and the pesti- lence that walked in darkness. In some districts they were postmasters and foresters and weather observers as well as teachers. When cholera closed his school the teacher became the village health officer and nurse. When local discontent swelled to the point of revolt, the teacher was the tribal counselor and an unofiicial member of the Peace Tribunal. Briefly told in figiu-es, here is the story of the American 224 Education teacher in the Philippines. In the early period, from 1901 to 1904, the average expenditure for school purposes was one million two hundred and seventy-nine thousand six hundred and eighty dollars a year, with many natives teaching without pay. Furniture and books by the ship- load were sent out from the United States and distributed among the schools — twenty-two thousand five hundred desks and two hundred and sixty-eight thousand textrbooks and three hundred and fifty thousand slate pencils in ^ single year, 1902. During that year eight hundred and six American teach- ers and two thousand six hundred and twenty-five natives were teaching in one thousand eight hundred and thirty- five schools. The report for the following year showed an attendance of more than one hundred and eighty thou- sand children in the day schools alone. In March, 1905, it reached half a million. Two years later, without any increase in the American force, about five thousand native teachers were at work. The Insular Normal School, with a large faculty and a fine equipment, is turning out trained teachers at a rate that keeps the statistician busy revising his figures. The higher industrial schools are doing a work just as remarkable and as far reaching in infiuence. No attempt is made to give the figures, for agricultural and manual training is being introduced into even the primary schools so rapidly that figures are out of date when they come from the cable. • As a part of this great campaign, which will in a few years lift the Filipino out of the ranks of the savage tribes, scores of the most capable young men and women are being educated in American colleges. The doings of the United States sailor and soldier in the Philippines once caused us as a nation to turn handsprings of dehght; it is now the teacher's turn. American Teaching Around the World 225 Even the Island of Guam, one of the loneliest outposts in the Pacific, has made the acquaintance of the school teacher as well as of the marine. Too small for a regular governor — it is only thirty-two miles long by seven wide — it is in charge of an officer of the navy. Up to 1904, Guam was practically without schools. On May 16th of that year Commander Dyer arrived; on June 13th he "opened school" with a marine and two clerks as teachers. The report for 1907 shows one thousand six hundred and one pupils, with agricultural, industrial, and night schools. Since nobody ever goes to Guam except on detailed duty, and since few of its people will ever see any other island or country, the teacher's work is directed mainly to the practical branches. But Guam is none the less a part of our educational empire. So much for the school-teacher in our own possessions. When to this work is added that of more than half a mil- lion teachers in the colleges and professional and common schools of the United States, the grand total will represent the American teacher's work under the Stars and Stripes But that is only a part of the story. No record of American teaching can pretend to anything like completeness unless it includes the work of American missionaries, for the same kind of foundation teaching is going on throughout Asia, Africa, and the Pacific islands as was done in Alaska and Hawaii a generation ago. The missionary as the herald of a new faith concerns chiefly the churches that send him forth, but his ministry to human suffering and his influence as a world-wide edu- cator concern all who take pride in American achievement. The missionary teacher is not represented in the National Teachers' Association, nor are his reports to be found in the bulky volumes annually issued from Washington, yet no teachers anywhere are doing more to "reclaim by cul- 226 Education ture vast areas in the mental life of the world." Some of them — like Dr. W. A. P. Martin, of Peking — have wit- nessed the transformation of an empire, partly as the result of their own work. If the different flags that float over mission schools taught by men and women from the United States were brought together, there would be enough to "dress" a battleship. The nearest approach to a complete summary of these schools is that compiled in 1902 by Dr. James S. Dennis. It shows that more than a million pupils are yearly enrolled in Protestant schools in foreign lands, and that the number of American schools is almost as great as that of all the rest of the world combined. SUPPORTED BY KIND OF SCHOOL UNITED STATES OTHEK COUNTRIES 47 152 370 68 30 93 8,000 47 Theological and training schools 223 509 121 Medical colleges and nurses' schools . .... 37 29 Elementary and day schools 10,000 In the Chinese Empire, the American's call to school was first heard nearly three-quarters of a century ago. Samuel R. Brown, of Monson, Massachusetts, — who entered Yale with six and a half cents and worked his way through, — opened a school at Macao and transferred it to Hong Kong as soon as foreigners were permitted to enter "the open door." On his return to America he brought three of his schoolboys, the first Chinese to be educated in this country. To what degree the "awakening of China" — so often credited to the cannon of the little brown men on the other side of the Yellow Sea — is in reality due to the American school bell may be inferred from the following compact American Teaching Around the World 227 facts : In China there are at least one hundred and seventy- five missionary institutions for advanced education. Of those enumerated by Dr. Dennis, the Americans conduct all of the thirteen colleges and universities, two-thirds of about seventy theological and training schools, six of the seven industrial schools, five of the six kindergarten schools, and more than half of the thirty-two medical col- leges. Peking University, the pride and glory of American Methodists, is one of the best educational institutions east of Suez. Since 1890 it has been virtually indepen- dent but it is incorporated under the laws of New York. About five hundred students are annually enrolled in its five departments, most of them being students from the north of China. Its medical course — five years of nine months each — is more thorough than that of most of the medical schools of the United States. Nanking University, the Anglo-Chinese College at Foochow, Soo- chow University, and colleges at Chentu and Kiukiang are also supported and directed by the American Methodists. St. John's College at Shanghai is another university of high rank. Its graduates can enter the leading schools of law, medicine, and divinity in the United States, and those with the B. A. degree can enter the course at Yale that leads to the M. A. and Ph. D. degrees. Since its begin- ning as a small boarding-school, about the middle of the last century, it has educated many young men who have be- come leaders in the business life of the metropolis of China. In connection with its medical department, it conducts one of the best-equipped hospitals in the empire. In Hangchow, a city in North China, as large as Boston and Buffalo combined, the American Presbyterians have a college with about a hundred students. Its Chinese superintendent had charge of the Hangchow exhibits at 228 Education the St. Louis and Belgian Expositions, yet he serves the college at a salary of six hundred dollars a year. Shan- tung University is another Presbyterian institution, con- ducted in cooperation with the EngUsh Baptists. The collegiate department at Wei Hsien (formerly Tengchow College) reported in 1898 that twelve of its graduates had become professors in the Imperial University at Peking. Christian College at Canton, though an independent organ- ization, cooperates with the Presbyterian Board. The Congregationalists have three important colleges. At Tung-cho, a city near Peking, with a population nearly as large as that of Washington, is North China College which began in 1867 with two pupils. During the Boxer outbreak, many of its most influential graduates met death; the buildings were demolished down to the last brick, and the campus was turned into a cornfield. This was in the summer of 1900, yet the college was ready for students in the fall of the same year. At Foochow College, which has about one hundred and fifty students, the sons of the rich and of the poor are brought together in class room and dormitory. The grad- uating class of 1906 took a long step forward by writing their orations in simple, direct language, instead of using the stilted phraseology common to the literati. The American Board has also a college for girls in the same city, and many of its graduates have taken courses in medicine and nursing. There is, perhaps, no other course which now offers to an ambitious Chinese girl such a wide opportunity for usefulness. These are the principal missionary colleges that have been to China all and more than all that Harvard and Yale and Princeton and Vassar have been to America. Their graduates have gone back to their homes with a new vision, with a new conception of a world stretching away American Teaching Around the World 229 from China in all directions, and of a universe of whose vastness the wisest of their fathers never dreamed. But — and here the American's theory differs from that of his English brother — the transformation of barbarism is not wrought by high schools and colleges but by the common school. The elementary training of the forty-two thousand children taught yearly by the mission- aries in China from Hong Kong to the Chinese wall and from Shanghai to the border of Tibet is a constructive influence that reaches farther and deeper than the educa- tion of the more than five thousand students in the mis- sionary colleges. To the fertile soil of the most populous country in the world the American has transplanted the idea that education is for all the people — coolie as well as mandarin, girl as well as boy. In another generation, perhaps, the leaders of China will have forgotten that their nation ever thought otherwise. Japan has already forgotten it. Japanese instructors are in charge of many of the new government schools of China, and Japanese schools are furnishing Western learning to more than fifteen thousand visiting Chinese students. Yet it was an American, Dr. David Murray, to whom was committed the task of making Japan a land of universal education when the Mikado issued his edict to the effect "that there may not be a village with an ignorant family, or a family with an ignorant member." The conspicuous service rendered by many American professors in Japanese colleges is well known, but the hum- bler part which the American missionary teacher had in the regeneration of Japan is often overlooked. Take, for example, the Anglo-Japanese College of the Methodists, located at Tokyo. A list of its graduates who in 1900 were helping to make the new Japan included five professors in the Imperial University, five physicians, 230 Education six editors, fifteen anny and navy officers, twenty-one ministers, twenty-three government officials, fifty-six teachers, and many others in professional pursuits. The Doshisha, a great Japanese university founded at Tokyo by the Rev. Dr. Neesima, has been from the beginning (except in name) an institution of the American Board. It now has more than fifty instructors, most of them Japanese, and more than five thousand students have received instruction within its walls. Among its grad- uates are one hundred and sixty-one teachers, one hundred and forty-eight merchants, ninety-three ministers, thirty- four bankers, nineteen journalists, and twenty-eight gov- ernment officials. Of one hundred and forty-eight gradu- ates from the girls' department twenty-three are teachers and one hundred and eight subsequently graduated from schools for nurses. Kobe College for Women, with six American and twelve Japanese instructors and seven buildings,' is another American Board school. The Epis- copaUans have a college in Tokyo, the Reformed Church has one at Nagasaki and another at Sendai, the Metho- dists have three, — Tokyo, Nagoya, and Kobe, — and the Presbyterians conduct a college in Tokyo in conjimction with the Reformed Church. All of the missionary colleges and universities in Japan listed by Dr. Dennis in 1902 were American institutions, and there are nearly a himdred other American schools above the grade of day schools. The importance of the educational work done by men and women from the United States is shown by a statement made in 1903 by Dr. W. E. Griffis, an authority on things Japanese: "Nine- tenths of the modern educated men and women of Japan before 1890, and a majority of those in influence and office to-day, received their first instruction from American missionaries." American Teaching Around the World 231 The first school for higher education in Korea was estab- lished by the Methodists at Seoul in 1886. The emperor gave it a name which means "Hall for Rearing Useful Men." The Presbyterians have an excellent school at Pyeng Yang, and these two denominations are now join- ing their forces throughout the country. The Methodist Board reported, in 1907, two high schools and fifty-four elementary schools, with one thousand six hundred pupils; the Presbyterian Board reported more than eight thousand pupils. Between China and Burma lies Siam, where the Ameri- can Presbyterians have done exceptionally good work. The relation between the missionaries and the govern- ment has probably been more intimate than in any other country, partly because the father of the present king was tutored by a missionary of the American Board. The superintendent of public instruction, who is also principal of the Royal College, is a Presbyterian missionary. This is also true of the superintendent of the Royal Hospital and of the surgeon-general of the navy. The American high schools for boys and for girls in Bangkok are centers of wide usefulness. Half of the pupils in the girls' school are from the no- bility, five of them being princesses. The governor of the province in which Bangkok is situated is a graduate of the boys' school, and it is said that there is scarcely a business house in Bangkok in which one of its graduates is not to be found. One of the Siamese commissioners told the Ameri- can teachers that he would take at sight for government service all the boys that they could educate. Among the Laos people farther north, the Presbyterians are practically the only educational influence. In addi- tion to about twenty-five day schools, they have an impor- tant training school at Cheng-Mai ("a month and a half 232 Education by boat" north of Bangkok) and an industrial school at Lakawn, several days' travel beyond Cheng-Mai. The Baptists are busily at work among other races in the same region. West of Siam is Burma, the largest province of India, with forty distinct races dwelling in a territory as large as New England, the Middle States, Ohio, and Indiana combined. This field is occupied principally by the Bap- tists, with about seven hundred schools of all grades. Rangoon Baptist College, with more than a thousand pupils and with a constituency of six hundred and thirty- eight mission schools, is affiliated with the University of Calcutta. This college is one of the strongest forces for good in that part of the British Empire. One of its graduates became head master of the Burman Boys' School at Moulmein, and the first Burman girl to take university work was from the same college. One of the brightest graduates of a smaller mission school was lost sight of by her teachers for several years. Eventually, while on a tour through the jungle, they found her in an obscure village with a school of her own. A feature of the mission training given to the Karens (one of the low-caste peoples) is voice culture. A traveler from Boston heard "The Messiah" sung by a Karen chorus and declared that their rendering of the ora^ torio was almost equal to that of the Handel and Haydn Society. In Assam, a province as large as the state of New York, bordering on Tibet, the American Baptists have nearly two hundred schools and more than fom- thousand pupils. One of these highland boys was brought to the United States and placed in Syracuse University. After his entrance examination a professor said that the young man from the Garo Hills knew more Greek than some of the American Teaching Around the World 233 students that had come from Chicago after three or four years' study of the language. In the other provinces of India the same kind of edu- cational work has long been in progress. The mission schools of all the Protestant boards are teaching more than a million pupils every year — about one-fourth as many as are in all the government schools — and the Americans have a large share in the work. England's educational policy in this part of its empire is not a theme for poets. The importance of American teaching will be seen when it is remembered that in 1901, after a long period of British rule, the census disclosed an illiterate population of about two hundred and seventy-seven millions. Of seventeen million girls of school age only about four hun- dred thousand were in school. The American missionaries are conducting in India about ten colleges, thirty-five training schools, more than fifty high schools and seminaries, three medical colleges, fifteen industrial schools, and about the same number of kindergartens. Yet in a sixteen-page pamphlet on "Edu- cation in India," issued by the United States Bureau of Education, there is not a single reference to any of them. But Lord Curzon and other British oflBcials in India have recognized the importance of the work. The Governor- General of Bengal said pubhcly that he had found after investigating that the best boys among the candidates for government services came from the mission schools. The Methodists have a boys' college at Calcutta and two colleges at Lucknow. The institution for girls, which is affiUated with Allahabad University, is said to be the first Christian college for women founded in Asia. The Baptists have an excellent college at Ongole, the Lutherans at Guntur, and the Reformed Church at Vellore. Gordon Mission College, a United Presbyterian institution up in 234 Education the Punjab, has about one thousand two hundred boys in all departments. At Madura, which was a capital city in the days of Xenophon, and which is now the second city in southern India, the American Board College has trained three hundred teachers and preachers; its graduates are instructors in twelve Indian colleges. Forman Christian College, conducted by the Presbyterians at Lahore, has about four hundred students. A great many of the smaller schools and seminaries scattered over the empire would rank as "colleges" in the United States. Jaffna College, on the island of Ceylon, was founded by Americans so long ago as 1824. The training in the industrial schools is of a high order. The Baptists, for instance, have a machine shop at Bassein in which fifteen steel steamers have been built. The Petit Industrial School of the American Board at Ahmed- nagar has advanced courses in carpentry, rug making, hammered metal work, and many other hand crafts. One of its carpets won the gold medal at the largest in- dustrial exhibition ever held in India. It represented the work of ten small boys for more than a year, yet not a flaw was found in it. The fame of the graduates of this school became so great that in 1898 a company was organized in London for the sole purpose of employing boys and girls trained in this school. In Persia the missionary education is chiefly in the hands of the American Presbyterians with Urumia College as a center. This institution was started in a cellar in 1836. Fiske Seminary, also at Urumia, is the leading school for girls. All in all, the Presbyterians have about one hundred and fifty schools in Persia, with important boarding schools in Teheran, Tabriz, and Hamadan. On the western side of Asia are many American colleges, some of which have an international reputation. Robert American Teaching Around the World 235 College, Constantinople, occupies twenty-three acres of American territory overlooking the Bosphorus near the site of the bridge over which Darius led the Persian army into Scythia, and facing the castle built by Mohammed the Conqueror in the year that Columbus discovered America. Besides the college walls run the telegraph wires to Bagdad and India. The college was founded during our civil war, at a time when there was not another college in the Turkish Empire. The idea originated with two Yale students — the sons of Dr. Dwight, a missionary at Constantinople — but the founder was Dr. Cyrus Hamlin, then of the American Board. Mr. Robert, for whom the college was named, was a New York merchant and treasurer of a home mission society; he gave four hundred thousand dollars for the buildings. The institution is independent, but is incor- porated under the laws of New York, and its three leading trustees must be American citizens. Opening in 1863 with four students, it had graduated (up to 1904) four hundred and fifty students with the degree of A. B., but two thousand five hundred and seventy-five young men had spent at least three years in its class rooms. So many nationalities are represented that eleven languages are taught, with more or less instruction in several others. Enghsh, however, is the language of the college. Of four hundred and nine students enrolled in 1907, there were two hundred and twenty-nine Greeks, eighty-five Arme- nians, and thirty-nine Bulgarians. Robert College has been the leader in education throughout a large part of Asia, and the influence of its students has been felt even in the Tsar's council chamber at St. Petersburg. It is inter- esting to note that the two delegates from Bulgaria to the Hague Conference were graduates of this college. Under the direction of the Congregationalists, there 236 Education are eight other American colleges in the Turkish Empire. Central Turkey College, at Aintab, has graduated twenty- seven classes. At the headwaters of the Euphrates, rising above the crowded houses of Harpoot, is Euphrates Col- lege, with about one thousand students. The nearest institution of its kind is the college at Aintab, nine days' journey to the southeast; there is another at Marsovan, eleven days' journey to the northwest. There is none northward to the Black Sea, nor eastward to the Persian and Russian frontiers. Anatolia College at Marsovan, three hundred and fifty miles east of Constantinople, has a field of eighty thousand square miles. South of the Cilician Gates of Asia Minor is St. Paul's Institute, at Tarsus, the birthplace of the Apostle Paul. It was founded chiefly through the generosity of Colonel E. F. Shepard, of New York, and the sister of Chief Justice Brewer is a member of its faculty. One of its graduates is a business partner of King Menelek of Abyssinia. At Smyrna, a city with a population as large as that of Cin- cinnati, is the International College, with more than three hundred students. At Samokov, ten. miles from the troubled frontier between Bulgaria and Macedonia, is the Collegiate and Theological Institute. The American Board has also two schools for the higher education of Turkish girls. At Constantinople, on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus, overlooking the Marmora, the Golden Horn, and the mosques and minarets of old Stamboul, is the American College for Girls, with nearly two hundred students. A feature of their college life is the presentation of some of the old Greek plays in their original language. One of its graduates, now the wife of a professor in the Imperial University, is the only Moham- medan woman in the Turkish Empire to receive the degree of A.B. Central Turkey Girls College is at Marash, a American Teaching Around the World 237 city of fifty thousand people, one hundred and ten miles northeast of Tarsus. Turkish is the language of the stu- dents but their textbooks are in EngUsh. In addition to these advanced institutions, the American Board has more than fifty boarding and high schools and more than four hundred elementary schools. The Syrian Protestant College in Beirut is another great outpost of American civihzation and is "one of the noblest Christian colleges in the world." It is an independent corporation and Mr. Morris K. Jesup of New York is president of its board of trustees. It has seven depart- ments, fifteen buildings, a faculty of sixty-eight instructors, and enrolled eight hundred and seventy-eight students in 1907. Their classification was as follows: Preparatory, five hundred and fifteen; collegiate, one hundred and eighty- nine; medical, one hundred and two; pharmacy, twenty- seven; nursing, six; commercial, thirty-eight;' biblical archaeology, one. The roll of its alumni includes the names of hundreds of men who have distinguished themselves in the East, and it shows that a very large part of the recon- structive work of the English in Egypt was in the hands of subordinates trained in this American university. But there are many Americans outside of Beirut who are doing a remarkable educational work in Syria. The Presbyterians have more than a hundred schools, with approximately five thousand pupils, and many of the schools are of high grade. From their two seminaries for girls — one at Beirut the other at Sidon — have gone three hundred young women to teach in the schools of Syria, Palestine, and Egypt. Gerard Institute, at Sidon, is sending out a large number of boys with industrial training. The most remarkable American educational work in the Dark Continent is that of the United Presbyterians in 238 Education Egypt. More than fifteen thousand students were taught in these schools during 1906 — and Dr. Charles R. Watson says that there were only eighteen thousand in the govern- ment schools that year. Assiut College, the center of this educational work, has been called "the hope of Egypt" by President Angell, of the University of Michigan; Mr. John R. Mott, after a tour of the colleges of all countries, says that this is "one of the most strategic, most efficient, and most fruitful institutions in all the world." It enrolls about seven hundred students annually and has trained a whole generation of useful men. More than four thousand have there received instruction, and its graduates fill important positions from Cairo to Khartum. Of not less importance is the work of educating the women of Egypt. The Americans have girls' schools at Cairo, Luxor, and Assiut, with an enrollment of nearly one thousand representing different races and rehgions. The Cairo school is opposite Shepheard's Hotel, known to all tourists; and that at Luxor, the site of ancient Thebes, is on the tourist road to Karnak. From one of these girls' colleges an Indian prince selected a peasant girl as his wife, and was so pleased that he gave the school a generous con- tribution every year as long as she hved. The United Presbyterians have also extended their work far into the Sudan. There are Arabic schools at Khartum, Omdurman, Khartiun North, and Haifa; and five hundred miles farther inland, at Doleib HUl, a grad- uate of the Iowa Agricultural College is training the Negroes of the Sudan. In those parts of Africa where the dawn is just beginning to break, most of the American schools are of elementary grade. The most important group is that of the American Baptists on the Congo, where nearly eight thousand pupils are receiving practical instruction in about two hundred American Teaching Around the World 239 and fifty schools. Several other missionary societies are also at work along the same river. To the north, in the French Congo and German Kamerun, the Presbyterians have about sixteen schools in the Gaboon region. The Methodists have about thirty schools in Liberia, with a college at Monrovia; and half a dozen other societies have stations in Sierra Leone. In Portuguese West Africa, south of the Congo, the Con- gregationalists have about twenty schools, and the Metho- dists are also at work in Portuguese Angola. On the east coast the American Board has a few schools in Central Africa and about seventy among the Zulus of Natal. The Methodists are in Rhodesia and Portuguese East Africa, and there are a number of schools in other regions. In the countries of Latin America, which is much nearer home, and where the percentage of illiteracy is very high, comparatively little educational work has been done by the missionaries, but the explanation is to be found in the fact that it is not easy to get Catholic children into Prot- estant schools. There are approximately one hundred and sixty American mission schools in Mexico, including about twenty-five colleges and high schools, chiefly in charge of the Methodists and the Presbyterians. Practically no work of this kind has been done in Central America, but the missionaries are on both sides of the continent to the south. Of perhaps fifty American institutions for higher education, the chief is Mackenzie College, at Sao Paulo, Brazil. It is probably the best college in South America and has educated many of the most influential men of Brazil. It is affiliated with a number of the colleges of the United States. In addition to the activities of the missionary educators, Americans have influenced educa- tion in South America in other ways. In Argentina, for instance, about sixty American teachers have at various 240 Education times been in charge of the government's normal schools. Dr. Harrington, a Methodist missionary in Bolivia, con- ducted a boys' school in La Paz so successfully that the Bohvian government asked him to take charge of public instruction in the district of Oruro and gave him a large appropriation with which to organize the work. Scattered here and there over the world — in Singapore, the CaroUne Islands, Malaysia, and elsewhere — are other American schools, but the Ust is long enough. Even in Europe they are at work. The American Board con- ducts the International Institute for Girls in Madrid, and the Baptists have the direction of theological seminaries in Hambiu"g, Germany, and Stockholm, Sweden. It is worth while to remember, in considering the work of these thousands of American schools, that, with the exception of the government schools mentioned in the beginning, this country receives not a dollar of tribute from any of the nations which reap the benefits of the training. And yet a distinguished French editor who recently visited the United States for the first time could see nothing but the passion of money-madness stamped upon our faces! "What is the attitude of the Government at Washing- ton toward your work?" I asked one of the leaders of this teaching army. "Indifference and tolerance," he replied. "The Gov- ernment sends out special agents to look for foreign trade and has warships to open foreign ports, if necessary, but they say that we have no business over there. We have nothiag to sell." THE VOCATIONAL IDEAL^ By JAMES G. CROSSWELL JHE task of the teacher — be it in school or in college — is not an easy one. There are a set of unpleasantnesses pecuUar to our profession, of which the most unpleasant is that, as a profession, we are subjected to more criticism, just and unjust, than any other trade, job, or profession has to endure. We school-teachers are criticized by our pupils, by their parents, by the citizens of our repubUc, by all the newspapers; indeed, by all those who think they can see a gap between their ideals of what we ought to be and our performance of our tasks. Like the ministers of the Gospel, we are always under fire from those we would serve; and in some sense, perhaps, we always deserve it. But, like no other profession, school and college teach- ers are also continually exposed to shots from the rear. Our profession suffers more from self-criticism than any other; more than in any other profession, except perhaps that of the artist, the humblest workers behold the glory of the ideal. We all see the hilltops of our aspi- ration, and we observe distinctly one another's distance therefrom. The best of us — perhaps the best more than the worst of us — are prone to utter somewhat despairing state- ments over the sad condition of the teaching world as it exists to-day. Just at present there seems to be an 1 Kind permission " Educational Review," February, 1909. 241 242 Education unusual abundance of such pessimistic views before the public. School-teaching is not heaven, either to the teacher or to the learner. We should not try to make our schools too blissful. The unsuccessful effort to make heavenly schools will account for a good deal of the melancholy and despair which at times settle over us. The simple fact, hard to remember, as it seems, is this : that the world in which its teachers live and scholars work is a curious world of itself, full of odd geography; but it is neither hell nor heaven. It is true that many of our experiences as teachers give a certain plausibihty to my friend's saying that school-teaching had some resemblance to the adventures of the Inferno; or at least we will confess that it suggests the classical Hades. School is not heaven; but school differs profoundly from any circle of any inferno. The world of school is, beyond all worlds, the place of hope; however crude and imper- fect our present arrangements, however crude our proc- esses, however unsatisfactory our results, however deeply condemned may be the young men who take our degrees and diplomas, there is no sense in speaking of despair. In the worst school that ever was known there is always a possibility — nay, even a probability — of improve- ment. Hope is the great commodity of all schools. Anything may happen in a school; even the imps of the pit may, in one hour, become angels of light; not only be- come so, but remain so. A boy may turn into anything, even into a man. The worst, yes, the worst possible system of education turned in the worst possible way, by the worst possible hands, has, on occasion, trans- formed itself, slowly or suddenly, into a thing of greater and greater beauty. But if school is not heaven or hell, neither is it earth. The Vocational Ideal 243 The common blunder in judging the world of school and college is to presume to judge this fluctuating, adolescing mass by the fixed standards of the adult world. Such is the blunder of the critics above quoted. Men judge schools, schoolboys, and even schoolgirls, by the standards of adult males. They do not recollect that our profession differs from all others in that its business is not transacted upon their earth at all. Our world may not be in heaven, but neither is it on terra firma. We live and work in the borderland, the "never, never land," the limbo of the innocents. There lies the "bonny road that winds across the ferny brae" of youth. The school world is full of hope; it is not a land of attainment. School is a place of still unrealized ideals, of loyalties to the causes that can not be described as lost because they have never been won. Why should we judge these half -defined cloudlands by the standards of any old man in this old world?. Such an answer I should make to most critics: such as I have quoted. Such are the feelings with which the American, the school-teacher, or the schoolboy himself is apt to answer all critics of his shortcomings. Even parents, in one of their two moods, are indulgent to these arguments. As Professor Briggs very keenly says, "Many parents regard school and college as far less serious in its demands than business; a place of dehght- ful irresponsibility, where a youth may disport himself before he is condemned to hard labor. " Possibly, however, we Americans tolerate childishness too long and too much in school and college. We let our children remain immature, under the influence of these feelings which I have described. Our critics may be right in this, American teachers may not be thor- oughly awake to the actual danger of the situation 244 Education After all, more does go to the making of man than quick senses, or volatile attention, or the hopefulness and charm of childhood. If we have no more than that in our schools, we are not contributing our proper share to the maturing of the nation. To remind us of a better ideal, let me read to you President Wilson's description of the educated man: "The nation needs not only men, in the vague and popular sense of that word, — that is, men who have been taken from the narrow surroundings of somewhat simple houses, and who have gone through the process of a sort of miniature world" (what I have just called the unreal world), "such as the large college often is, — it needs trained and disciplined men, men who know and who can think; men who can perceive and interpret, whose minds are accustomed to difficult tasks and ques- tions, which can not be threaded except by minds used to processes and defibaite endeavor; men whose faculties are instruments of precision, and whose judgments are steady by knowledge. Such men it is not getting by the present processes of college life, and can not get them until that life is organized in a different spirit and for a different purpose." These are beautiful words, and as we read them we can not but appreciate more deeply the complexity of what we ought to do for education. One may doubt and despair if one turns one's eyes too earnestly on this dazzUng standard. When we contrast the elaborate finish of this ideal product with the intellectual crudity of the early stages of a boy's life, as we have them, few of us would ventxire to promise, by any process of our present schooling, to produce such beings as these. Very few such men are born, though perhaps more such men do appear in the college world than President The Vocational Ideal 245 Wilson will admit. He is such a man himself. He has therefore no right to say that such men are not produced at all by our educational processes. This fact must cheer us when we are overwhelmed at times by the sense of our high task. But this must also urge us to further exertion. What we have to do is to consider more care- fully the long process of maturing, and to economize it more than we do. We must find better ways of help- ing the process of growth, in making less the stupidities of youth. We now multiply the children's experiences of life; we must also deepen them. But we must think with patience of this process if with hope of the result. It is our duty to advance the maturity of young Americans; yet, on the other hand, in the interests of this maturity, I should say to our critics and to my colleagues, we must stay our haste and make delays. This part of the teacher's duty is least under- stood by American parents, and the American community is impatient with us. Much criticism arises simply from undue impatience. But delay in ripening is a very vital part of the ripening process. "Before the beginning of years there came to the making of man, time, with the gift of tears." And yet we talk to parents, and college presidents talk to us, as if some teachers' association, some day, would invent a process to eliminate patience and time; as if children could be matured, if we only knew how, in no time at all, as in Paradise. I recollect hearing once of a process for maturing wine. The inventor had figured that contact with the air was the chemical cause of the ripening of wine. As contact could only occur at the surface, consequently if any way could be found for multiplying the points of contact between the air and the surface of the hquid, 246 Education the process must be shortened by that factor. His patent, or device, was to take the wine to the top of a shot tower and spray it downward through the air four hundred feet, whereby raw, new port must become fibtie old wine in the space of about five minutes. Some of our schemes and systems for the economical ripening of youth seem to have the defects of this device, physi- cally and psychologically. All American life, American ideals, American practices, need the slow ripening of time. We must therefore ripen our educational processes by time, maturing the culture of those who control and plan them. We need a patient attendance, too, on the natural growth of our children. Moreover, our critics need patience in their estimation of our results. A good friend of mine, who sent me into the teaching profession thirty years a,go, gave me that watchword as the result of his own success- ful experience. "You will need patience every day," said he; "you will need courage once a month." I have needed more patience and less courage than that. We all of us have courage enough in challenging the difficul- ties of our educational task; probably we none of us have patience enough with ourselves and our institutions. But the unrest of our generation of which I speak is, as a sign of the times, not to be dismissed with a mere recommendation of patience. What does it mean, that for a generation, as President Wilson said to us last year, "we have been passing through a period when every- thing seems in the process of dissolution"? When there is such a universal dispersion of every ancient aspect and conception of om- world, there must be a cause for it. If the new Renaissance is due, and perhaps overdue, patience alone will not produce it. There must be some- thing more looked for to save us. TJ > O -i a > r D m (D (0 S > z The Vocational Ideal 247 The one thing needful, which patience alone will not bring, seems to me to be a better attitude of mind toward work. Now there is nothing more fundamental than the attitude of mind with which scholars and teachers attack their common task. It is our attitude toward work we should reconstruct. This is most fundamental. An attitude of mind may determine not only the choice we make among various ideals of work, but success and failure in reaching them. A new attitude of mind has before now brought about astonishing changes on the face of history. The Crusades, and all their vast con- sequences, were brought about by an attitude of mind about the Holy Sepulcher. The beliefs and the hopes which accompanied them wrought out their funda- mental changes in Europe and Asia before they died away. The Reformation was, in the last analysis, a new attitude of mind in European Christianity. Renais- sances always spring from intellectual changes, often in a comparatively small class of minds. The great philosophy of evolution which has transformed, and is transforming, the life of the twentieth century, was created by a scientific attitude of mind working out its conclusions in a few laboratories and libraries. In our own profession, the introduction of the elective system was due to a change of mind among a few teachers. All the patient, vigorous work involved in the estabUsh- ment of the elective system in the educational institu- tions of this country during the last generation, could never have been carried through had it not been based upon a significant change of mind among a few people at first. Certain people's beliefs about youth, and the best experiences of youth in contact with work, changed. That change of mind has changed the face of American schooling. 248 Education Now, what has happened once may happen again. What might happen if a change of mind as far-reaching as the belief in the elective system should occur again among school-teachers? What a difference it would make in our schools and colleges if an attitude of mind should arise among boys toward work, among teachers and parents toward boys and the relation of work to workers, as has already happened under our eyes in these few years! In what direction, then, shall we look for new forces which may bring about these fresh impulses toward work in the mind of our scholastic youth? Work, as work, is, for some reason, not sufficiently respected in American colleges and schools. There is a good deal of evidence that work is less respected in this coimtry than in similar institutions in Europe. In the interests of the maturing process which I have said we ought to desire to hasten and increase in school, we school-teachers and parents should wish somehow to change the attitude of American pupils toward their work. Perhaps we should attempt to change the attitude of the teaching profession also, its present ideals, and its present hopes. The impulse to the new life, if it follows the analogies of other reforms, must probably come from outside the school and college world. Our minds may be subjectively prepared, but the fire must descend from elsewhere. It will not be any attitude of our own minds which we can ourselves create which will produce the new Renais- sance. Where shall we look for it, then? Whence will come the flash? The new Renaissance must not be mainly occupied with reforms, and readjustments of the working apparatus. We have been looking for reform for the last generation, almost too much in technical improvement of educational The Vocational Ideal 249 processes. It is probably a real danger to us, if we go on busying ourselves exclusively with educational ma- chinery, for we teachers are prone to think that if we get better apparatus onto the ground, all reform is secured, as if, like a fire department, we teachers had to extin- guish a blaze instead of creating one. We rely too much on our paper schemes. The proverb says that hell is paved with good intentions. If this is ever true, it is true of the educational Tartarus. Our hell is paved with school and college catalogues, with "requisitions" and "syllabuses" and other sjTnbols of good intentions never carried out. High-minded idealists that we are, we still labor incessantly at the improvement and enrichment of our apparatus. Schools are not made without ideals, and ideals can not be enforced without embodiment in personalities. Will improvement of the personnel of the teaching profession suffice to bring about our new attitude toward school and college work? The difficulty of getting great per- sonahties into the teaching profession is undoubtedly one of the causes of the immaturity which our critics are deploring, and of the lack of spontaneous activity in the college classes. But I am prepared to say that even if by some miracle a large number of authoritative personalities were to appear in the next generation of school-teachers there would still be need of further help to produce the change of heart for which I am looking. There is something further needful than great ideals embodied in great teachers. The saying that Mark Hopkins at one end of the log and a student at the other makes a university, is only in one sense true. There must be an atmosphere, an intention, an ambition, on both sides of the log, which would hardly be created simply by a dominating 250 Education personality. We want better reactions on the part of our students themselves, not a reaction excited merely by their interest in attractive people. While we gladly welcome, therefore, the mystical transfer of life by the living to the living, which Thring described as the true definition of the teacher's activity, to our new Renaissance, there lies beyond this a more maturing experience still, which every boy and girl must have deep rooted in their lives if they are to be men and women. Our students must know work. The hunger for work which comes to every man when he first faces the life struggle, that lonely, competitive personal struggle which we must all know, I shall once for all describe as working for the market. That is the one thing needful to make om* schools alive again. If we are to have a great Renaissance in school and college, our boys must realize that they are truly working for a market. This market may be man's market, where one earns one's living, or God's market, where one earns one's salvation. It is this sacramental touch of the spirit of work upon our spirits which we ought to yearn for in the lives of our youth in our secondary schools and colleges. This touch is now very much wanting. Our boys and girls do not believe that in school or college they are at work for any market at all. If we could persuade the boys and girls in our schools and colleges that they were truly earning their living at school by their work in school, we should soon find that our American youth would rise nearer to the measure of their duty in the high schools and colleges. If it could be seen by pupils that the proc- esses and occupations in the high schools and colleges were in any way concerned with their own marketable value as men, we should soon see a Renaissance begin. The Vocational Ideal 251 Nothing short of this attitude of mind will really save our schools. I disUke the words "cultural" and "vocational," but in this connection I feel tempted to use them. And if I use them I should say that if we wish a new Renaissance we must assess the value of our schools more in terms of vocation, and less in terms of culture, especially of self-culture. All pursuits in school should be thought of by the students as vocational pursuits. The day one feels that his work is worth more than he is, that day the boy becomes a man. I do not say that one must earn dollars, or quarters of dollars, neces- sarily, to acquire that true manly feeling. When the storm of civil war swept over this country, a most marvelous change was wrought in many an idle boy. The heroes whose names are inscribed on the walls of our institutions of learning are the names of boys often chiefly distinguished in college by their apathy in all matters of scholastic regimen. Why did they drill in the army, who never would drill in college? It was because they saw that their output was marketable in one case, and not in the other. It was cultural versus vocational activity. Many are the markets of the universe. They were earning their living who fell at Gettysburg; home they went, and took their wages. I urge, then, greater consideration and greater esteem for the vocational ideal in America. I think this will work in our schools a great change of mind and a greater change of practice. I urge the withdrawing of the worn- out word "culture" from our thoughts. Vocation alone is enough to stimulate Americans to duty. Now, in what way can this change of mind be produced? We can not deny the value of self-culture as an end in itself, nor can we tell our children that anything they do 252 Education at the age of the secondary school life will be marketable in any very definite vocation. Nothing that our pupils put out, whether it be the solution of a mathematical problem or the acquisition of French or Latin, is as marketable as they are themselves. Are their cultural ambitions the only true ambitions for children and half- grown youth? Certainly not. It is not in the least wholesome for cultural ideas to dominate the youthful imaginations. Cardinal Newman, I believe, laid down the ingenious paradox of ethics as follows: "Be virtu- ous and you will be happy. But they that seek the happiness have not the virtue." Let me alter it. "Be industrious in school and you will be cultivated. But they that work for culture never have the right kind of industry. " Only those who work for the product's sake truly work. It is, for example, because the playing of a football game seems to boys a true vocation that athletics have flourished so largely in the midst of the cultural vacuum into which President Wilson describes our teaching as having passed. Can any one conceive of the hosts which assemble to behold our boys following their "vocation" as athletes, assembUng to watch "cultural" exercises in gymnastics? The market of competition enlivens the work of the muscle. Why not of the mind? Let me repeat. I think that the cultural ideals of the past are not deeply enough rooted in the social life of the present and the future to serve our turn of enUsting the best work of American youth. The educational ideal of Athens, for example, on which our ideals of culture generally rest, contemplated an aristocracy whose perfec- tions, mental and physical, rested upon slave labor and a social ideal of life now outworn. It fails to interest the modern world; our boys misunderstand it. Perfection The Vocational Ideal 253 of the Oxford culture, defined as Professor Jowett de- scribed it, " teaching the English gentleman to be an English gentleman," — this, too, fails to meet the de- mand of our time in our country. "A gentleman's mark is 'C, '" was the immortal statement of an ingenuous college youth at Harvard. Why not? But no boy would ever believe that a "C" algebra, offered in any market, was worth more than an Al algebra. In what way can we bring good, wholesome, market ideals more closely before the eyes of growing boys and growing girls? In two ways, it seems to me. The market of adult life can be suggested in the work of the earlier years by increasing the number of vocational studies and vocational schools in our community. Let us have trades taught universally. Let us, even in childhood, learn things which we know even in childhood can be taken to market. Open the trade schools, if we are to have them, to all comers. From them will spread precisely that seriousness about the procqss, that value in the product, which I desire to see increase in the life of American schoolboys. This will uplift our cultural ideals. Taking the market as it is, even with all its narrowness, let us see that our children get into it earlier than they now do. Let them learn to work with their hands, even though it were hunting and fishing. All the yachting and canoeing and boat-sailing, all the gardening and farming, into which hungry children throw themselves with such avidity, will increase and multiply the centers by which this vivacious ideal of the meaning of work, the true, new attitude of mind, may spread. A second way in which this same end may be reached seems to me important for us American school-teachers to consider. Should we not multiply trainings for new 254 Education vocations in our schools? Why must we narrow our vocational schools to the teaching of trades already at work in the market? Parents forget that their sons may be called upon to be pioneers in new vocations. We forget that America has to estabUsh new trades and new professions, as well as to pursue the old ones; and that trade schools alone will not train a man, even for the life of trade and commerce. In this connection I should be glad to tell you a story told me by Frederick Law Olmsted of his own beginning and his own experience. He it was who designed and mapped out Central Park in New York. He told me that when this undertaking first began to be realized, he was forced to spend nearly the whole of his days in persuading citizens and officials of New York that they needed a park there. His nights he gave to the profes- sional work involved in making it. So, in our American work, we must cultivate demands "for ourselves, as a condition preceding our efforts to satisfy them. Why not consult the future vocational value of intellectual flexibility and persistent training in youth? Another thing we can do, if we wish, to produce a more inspired industry in our secondary schools, — a thing which is close at hand. We might try to give more of their proper vocational values to such studies as actually exist in the present high-school curriculum. We treat all our studies in the high school and college too often with no regard to their vocational possibilities. We treat them as cultural subjects exclusively. But all the cultural subjects in our curriculum began origi- nally as vocations. Vocations are older than cultures. Any culture study has more to gain from being true as a vocational study than it has to lose. For instance, it was not until Latin ceased to be of marketable value The Vocational Ideal 255 as a language that it began to pose as culture. But by treating it merely as culture, we are now killing it off. Let us now treat it again as vocation. Mr. Wendell suggested that he studied Latin simply as a nauseous means of cultivating the voluntary attention. But why not learn Latin? Why not pursue it as a thing of vocational meaning? It can be done. It ought to be done. It is a language, after all. Or why not learn some French in our schools? The new method of teaching modern languages has just this vocational origin. Under the cultural method of treating the subject one is supposed to value the intellectual processes involved in studying French grammar, rhetoric, and literature, more than the French incidentally acquired. Suppose one postpones all this till after the acquisition of a working knowledge of French or German as languages. Would not the attitude of mind in our modern language classes improve? Are they not languages, after all? Or consider mathematics. Why make that very prac- tical subject so essentially into a setting-up drill of the intellect? Is it necessary to have three years of arithmetical culture, two years of algebraic culture, one year of geometric culture, all separated by logical classi- fication from one another? Is there any good argument for this arrangement? Is there any vocation known in which geometry exists simply as an exercise in logic, independently of arithmetic or algebra? Or consider the problem of instruction in English. Where would the cultural ideal conduct us finally, if we pursued it in the study of Enghsh to the exclusion of vocational Enghsh entirely? Should we be able to speak Enghsh? We have not made, or we have lost too far, the vocational connections in our school work. When I plead for the vocational ideal as a new means 256 Education of inspiration in our American schools, I am not speaking, of course, solely of the money value of acquisitions or talents. Money values may be easily overestimated, though money value is a pretty faithful index of market value. A boy who receives wages for work feels most vigorously, most strongly, that he is at last enlisted with the colors. It is a great experience, one that I should hke every boy and every girl in our country to have, — to work for money as regularly as European boys serve in the army, if only for two or three years. But it need not be money values that we propose to consider when we speak of vocational work in school. Much social service is done, and always will be done, which can not be paid for in money. It is sufficient that a boy's work is recognized by the worker and his com- rades as service. It may be service to the school, the college, the family, or the community. Work done in the sight of the host has its upUfting inspiration. Why not idealize the word "vocation" to mean just this, and make it appeal in a more heroic way to our scholars? If our schools create this vocational atmosphere even in the culture studies, great improvements must follow. Two of our greatest problems would probably be solved at once. Under no vocational ideal of school instruction could the absurd proposition maintain itself that every child, in every public school, must study every subject. This superstition sprang out of the old ideal of a rounded culture as the end of school work. This is already a hopeless cultural ideal; it never had any vocational meaning. Moreover, the other enemy of good work might vanish. If it were understood that the value of the product was to be considered which each child can present to the world at the close of his school life, we should hear less The Vocational Ideal 257 of overcrowded high schools and overburdened tax- payer^. Pupils who could not "make good" from the vocational point of view, in pursuing their college and high-school subjects, who could not produce any market- able commodity in any subject of learning, necessarily would receive no consideration from the taxpayers. Our democratic indulgence to incompetency in our public schools would be cut at the root. These random suggestions seem to me to point out the road on which we may march; they do not pretend to be a developed scheme for immediate realization. We need a new attitude of mind. I think we must search for the new attitude of mind by making our school and college work appeal more and more to the con- structive ambition of American youth. James Russell Lowell was fond of saying that school and college should be the place where "nothing useful was studied." He put it somewhere in another way : that we should respect and provide for the growing of roses, not less than cab- bages, in our academic field. No one will deny the deep meaning of these poetic imaginations. Our new attitude of mind can not controvert them; but both roses and cabbages, after all, grow best when grown for the market. I confess, for one, that I think there is more danger in idly contemplating our cabbage field than in attempting to make roses useful. We must interest our boys more in the market values of their intellectual product. We must judge our work in school and in college with more severity from the standpoint of the pubhc market. Things are tolerated good-naturedly in American schools which would not be tolerated in Europe, where market values are much considered. We are too gentle, for example, with bad Enghsh if produced in school by a nice boy. The one thing needful is a new and severer 258 Education attitude of mind, which would arrive automatically among both pupils and teachers, if vocational ideals should be more considered, even at the expense of the cultural atmosphere. "Vocation" is a word to conjure with in modern America. I want to use it, with its associations, to cover the whole ground of a boy's experience in his school life. I want it to bring about a new attitude in work. Do not mistake me. I have no desire to make radical sub- stitutions, say, of laundry work for Latin. I do not wish the higher experiences of the. soul to give way to the lower. But high and low are dangerous words to use of human vocation. Let the rose follow the vocation of the rose, and the cabbage of the cabbage; they are both in honor. Good laundry work well done is higher than bad Latin. Even for the cultural studies one may desire to win such connotations of the word vocational. There is no telling by what lowly door the Lord of Ufe may enter in. Let us persuade our students to take their talents and their culture always in the spirit of service. Let us so teach them how to work, and why to work, and what work is from the market point of view. That is the one thing needful, I think, to fill again the idle sails of Ameri- can schools and colleges. A NEW DEFINITION OF THE CULTI- VATED MAN! By CHARLES W. ELIOT produce the cultivated man, or at least the man capable of becoming cultivated in after life, has long been supposed to be one of the fundamental objects of systematic and thorough education. The ideal of general cultivation has been one of the standards in education. I ought to say at once that I propose to use the term " cultivated man " in only its good sense — in Emerson's sense. He is not to be a weak, critical, fastidious creature, vain of a little exclusive information or of an uncommon knack in Latin verse or mathematical logic : he is to be a man of quick perceptions, broad sympathies, and wide affinities, responsive but independent, self-reliant but deferential, loving truth and candor but also moderation and proportion, courageous but gentle, not finished but perfecting. All authorities agree that true culture is not exclusive, sectarian, or partisan, but the very opposite; that it is not to be attained in solitude, but in society; and that the best atmosphere for culture is that of a school, university, academy, or church, where many pxirsue together the ideals of truth, righteousness, and love. Here some one may think this process of cultivation is evidently a long, slow, artificial process. "I prefer the genius, the man of native power or skill, the man ' From address delivered before the National Educational Association. By courteous permission of the Author. 259 260 Education whose judgment is sound and influence strong, though he can not read or write — the born inventor, orator, or poet." So do we all. Men have always reverenced prodigious inborn gifts, and always will. Indeed, bar- barous men always say of the possession of such gifts — "These are not men; they are gods." But we teachers, who carry on a system of popular education, which is by far the most complex and valuable invention of the nineteenth century, know that we have to do, not with the highly gifted units, but with the millions who are more or less capable of being cultivated by the long, patient, artificial training called education. For us and our system the genius is no standard, but the cultivated man is. To his stature we and many of our pupils may in time attain. There are two principal differences between the present ideal and that which prevailed at the beginning of the nineteenth century. All thinkers agree that the horizon of the human intellect has widened wonderfully during the past hundred years, and that the scientific method of inquiry, which was known to but very few when the nineteenth century began, has been the means of that widening. This method has become indispensable in all fields of inquiry, including psychology, philanthropy, and reUgion, and, therefore, intimate acquaintance with it has become an indispensable element in culture. As Matthew Arnold pointed out more than a generation ago, educated mankind is governed by two passions — one the passion for pure knowledge, the other the passion for being of service or doing good. Now, the passion for pure knowledge is to be gratified only through the scientific method of inquiry. In Arnold's phrases, the first step for every aspirant to culture is to endeavor A New Definition of the Cultivated Man 261 to see things as they are, or "to learn, in short, the will of God." The second step is to make that will prevail, each in his own sphere of action and influence. This recognition of science as pure knowledge, and of the scientific method as the universal method of inquiry, is the great addition made by the nineteenth century to the idea of culture. I need not say that within that century what we call science, pure and applied, has trans- formed the world as the scene of the human drama, and that it is this transformation which has compelled the recognition of natural science as a fundamental neces- sity in liberal education. The most convinced exponents and advocates of humanism now recognize that science is, in the words of John Addington Symonds, the "para- mount force of the modern as distinguished from the antique and the medieval spirit" and that "an inter- pretation of humanism with science and of science with humanism is the condition of the highest culture." A second modification of the earlier idea of cultivation was advocated by Ralph Waldo Emerson more than two generations ago. He taught that the acquisition of some form of manual skill and the practice of some form of manual labor were essential elements of culture. This idea has more and more become accepted in the systematic education of youth; and if we include athletic sports among the desirable forms of manual skill and labor, we may say that during the last thirty years this element of excellence of body in the ideal of education has had a rapid, even an exaggerated development. The idea of some sort of bodily excellence was, to be sure, not absent in the old conception of the cultivated man. The gentleman could ride well, dance gracefully, and fence with skill; but the modern conception of bodily skill as an element in cultivation is more comprehensive. 262 Education and includes that habitual contact with the external world which Emerson deemed essential to real culture. We have lately become convinced that accurate work with carpenters' tools, or lathe, or hammer and anvil, or vioHn, or piano, or pencil, or crayon, or camel's-hair brush, trains well the same nerves and gangha with which we do what is ordinarily called thinking. We have also become convinced that some intimate, sympathetic acquaintance with the natural objects of the earth and sky adds greatly to the happiness of life, and that this acquaintance should be begim in childhood and be developed all through adolescence and matmity. A brook, a hedgerow, or a garden is an inexhaustible teacher of wonder, reverence, and love. The scientists insist to-day on nature study for children; but we teachers ought long ago to have learned from the poets the value of this element in education. They are the best advo- cates of natiu-e study. If any here are not convinced of its worth, let them go to Theocritus, Vergil, Wordsworth, Tennyson, or Lowell for the needed demonstration. Let them observe, too, that a great need of modem industrial society is intellec- tual pleasures, or pleasm:es which, like music, combine delightful sensations with the gratifications of obser- vation, association, memory, and sympathy. The idea of culture has always included a quick and wide sym- pathy with men; it should hereafter include sympathy with Nature, and particularly with its Uving forms — a sympathy based on some accurate observation of Nature. The bookworm, the monk, the isolated student, has never been the type of the cultivated man. Society has seemed the natural setting for the cultivated person, man or woman; but the present conception of real cul- ture contains not only a large development of this social A New Definition of the Cultivated Man 263 element, but also an extension of interest and reverence to the animate creation and to those immense forces that set the earthly stage for man and all related beings. Our conception of the type of cultivated man has been greatly enlarged, and on the whole exalted, by observa- tion of the experiences of mankind dm-ing the last hun- dred years. Let us as teachers accept no single element or kind of culture as the one essential; let us remember that the best fruits of real culture are an open mind, broad sympathies, and respect for all the diverse achieve- ments of the human intellect at whatever stage of de- velopment they may actually be — the stage of fresh discovery, or bold exploration, or complete conquest. Let us remember that the moral elements of the new edu- cation are individual choice of studies and career among a great, new variety of studies and careers, early respon- sibility accompanying this freedom of choice, love of truth now that truth may be directly sought through rational inquiry, and an omnipresent sense of social obligation. These moral elements are so strong that the new forms of culture are likely to prove themselves quite as productive of morality, high-mindedness, and ideaUsm as the old. WHY GO TO COLLEGE ?^ By ALICE FREEMAN PALMER 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 Httle children he said, "For the two boys it is not so serious, but I he 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 pre- pare themselves for the most serviceable lives. 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 that she possesses the discipUned abiUty to earn a Hving 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 circum- stances, a special training in some one thing by which ' From " The Teacher," by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. Copyright, 1908, by Greorge H. Palmer. 264 Why Go to College? 265 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 famihes will surely increase who will follow the example of an eminent banker whose daugh- ters 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, pre- serves, and sweetmeats. Yet the house in the moun- tains, 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. 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 nimabers 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 Ufe, — what they may be, and for whom they are waiting. 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 nerv- ous invaUd, nor for her who in the exuberance of youth recklessly ignores the laws of a healthy Ufe. The good 266 Education 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 imder 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 Hfe. No, the college can not be, should not try to be, a substitute for the hospital, the reformatory, or the kinder- garten. To do its best work it should be organized 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 hfe. All these perverted young people may, and often do, get large benefit and invigoration, new ideals, and unselfish purposes from their four years' companion- ship 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 imconscious manner, all telHng 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 the yoimg life Why Go to College? 267 which is open and prepared to receive obtains the gracious and upUfting influences of college days. What, then, for such persons are the rich and abiding rewards of study in college or university? Preeminently 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, 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 Mttle knowl- edge on many subjects, and much knowledge on some, can be said to have succeeded, whatever other advan- tages she may have found by the way. It is a beautiful and significant fact that in all times the years of learn- ing 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 I shall say Uttle 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. 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 mean 268 Education what it will mean by and by, any more than that 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 hkely to have a genuinely good time. Merely for good times, for romance, for society, college life offers unequaled opportxmities. 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 intelUgence, 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 they are ever likely to find them- selves 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 Why Go to College? 269 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 hfe 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. 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 Uttle 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 meet with no acceptance in college. Years ago I saw in the mirror frame of a col- lege freshman's room this httle 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 con- fess a lack of physical vigor, as if they were convicted of managing hfe 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; possibili- 270 Education ties 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 can not 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 train- ing of the gymnasium, 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 Uttle, that buoyant health is a precious possession to be won and kept. 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 Uttle children and their health, of home sanitation, of food and its choice and prepara- tion, of domestic service, of the cleanUness of schools and public buildings. Colleges for girls are pledged by their very constitution to make persistent war on the Why Go to College? 271 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, hfe 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 against fate with the same intelli- gence and courage which she put into her calculus prob- lems and her translations of Sophocles. Her beautiful home and her rosy and happy children prove the meas- ure 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 prescrip- tion, "Take her out of school." Never a suggestion as to suppers of pickles and poundcake, never a hint about midnight dancing and hurried daytime ways. But now the sensible doctor says, "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 in- vigorating world outside. This the college does largely through its third gift of friendship. 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. And so it comes about that the fourth gift of college hfe is ideals of per- sonal character. 272 Education 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 uncon- scious at the time. For many years I have known that my study with, them, no matter whether of philosophy or of Greek, of mathematics or history or English, en- larged my notions of life, uplifted my standards of culture, and so inspired me with new possibiUties 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 mis- cellaneous subjects. There is quite as likely to be a quickening force in the somewhat remote and mysteri- ous power of the teacher who devotes himself to amass- ing 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. Why Go to College? 273 "Do you use your college studies 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. There are two reasons why women need to cultivate 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 con- sequence. 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 the 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 con- dition of things in which there is social danger, unless 274 Education with the larger leisure are given high and enduring in- terests. 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 still more go to pieces through fussiness, unwholesome hving, 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 under- mining 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 con- ditions 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 coun- try deadly dullness succeeds daily toil. 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 dis- connected and of httle 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 pin been the appropriate symbol of the average woman's Ufe — the pin, which only tem- Why Go to College? 275 porarily 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 can not 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 pos- sible way of doing everything small or large; for there is always a best way, whether of setting a table, of trim- ming a hat, or of teaching a child to read. And this taste for perfection can be cultivated; indeed, it must 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 organisms, if mere knowledge or wealth could avail; but the greater difficulty is to make intelli- gence, character, good taste, unselfishness prevail. 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 276 Education 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 men- tion 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. 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." And this is the power possessed by the mighty dead, — men of every time and nation, whose voices death can not silence, who are waiting even at the poor man's elbow, whose illumiaating 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 soUtary spot, breeding misery and vice. Now the modem college is especially equipped to in- troduce its students to such literatm-e. The Hbrary is at last imderstood 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 Why Go to College? 277 treasures. Every language, ancient or modern, which contains a literature is now taught in college. Its his- tory 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 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. 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 grow- ing hunger for the country, particularly when grass begins to grow. This is a healthy taste, and must in- crease the general knowledge and love of Nature. For- tunate 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 oiu- girls to have a feeling for the fine sunset or the wide-reaching panorama of field and water, but to know something also about the less obvious aspects of Nature, 278 Education its structure, its methods of work, and the endless diver- sity 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 singu- larly simple and hard-working hfe 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 marvelous unbroken Une of English song and the passionate love of the English- man for a home in the midst of birds, trees, and green fields. The world is so full of a number of things, That I think we should all be as happy as kings, 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 blow- pipe 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 enjojonent. "Keep your years beautiful; make your own atmosphere," was the parting advice of my college president, himself a living illustra- tion of what he said. But it is a short step from the love of the complex and engaging world in which we live to the love of our com- rades in it. Accordingly the third precious interest to be cultivated by the college student is an interest in Why Go to College? 279 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 medieval culture are history, eco- nomics, 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 in- stincts of generous youth are becoming enhsted 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 ser- mons and public lectures in Wellesley, I always noticed a quickened attention in the audience whenever the dis- cussion touched poUtics 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. J 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 reli- gion." He observed that "men of very great abiUty often fail in life because they are unable to play their part with effect. They are shy, awkward, self-con- scious, 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 280 Education Harvard's Memorial Hall the life and death of the gal- lant 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 ever- lasting 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 righteous- ness 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 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 pene- trating message, "Not to be ministered unto, but to min- ister." How many a young heart has loyally responded, "And to give Ufe a ransom for many." That is the "Wellesley spirit;" and the same sweet spirit of devout service has gone forth from all our col- lege halls. In any of them one may catch the echo of Whittier's noble psalm, — Our Lord and Master of us all! Whate'er our name or sign, We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call, We test our lives by Thine. That is the , supreme test of hfe, — 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" Why Go to College? 281 universities were set up in the wilderness of New Eng- land; 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 Allegha- nies across the prairies and the 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 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 civiliza- tion, and in their own beautiful characters have con- tinually shown us how to combine religion and life, the ideal and the practical, the human and the divine. Such are some of the larger influences to be had from college Ufe. 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 hfe. 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 282 Education capacity for usefulness in the world. It has been well said that the ability to see great things large and Mttle things small is the final test of education. The foes of Ufe, 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? GOING TO COLLEGE 1 By ANDREW S. DRAPER OT SO very long ago there would be two or three boys in a high-school class who thought about going to college. Then there were only a few high schools in each state, and colleges were scarce and small. Now there are perhaps a hundred colleges, larger and stronger than the very best in the whole country at the time of the Civil War. In nearly every state there is a great state university. There is a high school in every town. And nearly all high-school pupils, girls as well as boys, think about going to college, and very many of them do go. And what is "going to college?" Is it nothing more than leaving one school and going to another to study more difficult books? Fathers and mothers who have some kind of college close at hand often thank their stars that their children can go to college without going away from home; but half of the going to college is in the going away from home. Going to college means at least being set loose from the control of the home and given opportunity to think and do for oneself. It means the chance to gain the power of independent and balanced thinking, under the necessity which is upon a college student to think hard for himself and keep himself straight. It is not severing relations with the home, by any means; ' By courteous permission of the Author, " The Youth's Companion," and Ginn and Company. Copyright, 1904. 283 284 Education rather, it is learning how dear the atmosphere of the home truly is, and how much its guidance and support have really meant. Perhaps it gives the one who goes the first clear sight of the precious interest which father and mother have in him. An educated man in moderate circumstances told me recently that he had just received a letter from a son whom he has sent through college and law school. The boy thanked him for all he had done, and told him that he was now so well started in his profession that it would not be necessary to send him more money. And the father said, "And, do you know, it made me sad." Of course it did, for the giving had been a labor of love. But how splendid to have an appreciative son thoroughly trained for noble life through such a labor! Going to college is very much more than going away from home. It is going somewhere. And the somewhere is not a place where every step is regulated by written rule and directed by a past master in governing boys. It is not going to a place where all one's work has been cut out for him and all one's thinking has been done for him in advance. It is going to a place where there is freedom to choose work and hberty in manner of life, but where the conditions challenge the utmost and the best there is in a youth. Of course with new freedom a student may go to the bad. Even so, it is better than that the freedom be denied to all. Some, perhaps more, would go to the bad if they stayed at home. Some will get on the wrong road in spite of all precautions. That is not so hard to think of as is the fact that some go all awry because there are no precautions. We have no right to accept in America the extreme Going to College 285 and convenient and indifferent view of the German imiversities concerning the conduct and character of students. We. have something more to do in our uni- versities than to stir intellectual activity and certify mental accomplishments. Fathers and mothers who trust their sons and daughters to the freedom of a university have the right to know that they will not be subjected to dangers which the strength and energy of the authorities of that university can keep out. When the management of a university ignores the advance of the saloons and overlooks a case of drunkenness, when it winks at gambling, or only regrets it in musical tones, — and betting on athletic events is only one form of gambling, — it practically invites monstrous wrongs which have no place upon or around college groimds. If these evils creep in, they are to be repelled. And happily, experience shows that by far the greater number of students will sustain college authorities in repeUing the evils which menace college life. Students who go to the bad in spite of precautions forfeit their right to college freedom. The college is bound to do all it can to help them, but if they will not be helped, they must go home, in order that legal guardians may resmne control over them. If even that does not avail, they will have to find a place with the under side of the world rather than with that upper side for which a good university provides the best preparation. Now let us speak of the questions which will meet one who can prove that he has substance enough to exercise college freedom safely under wholesome conditions. First, there is the living problem. At college, just as anywhere else, one may live on almost any scale one will. There is no more rationally democratic institution in 286 Education America, none more typical of American traditions and purposes, than the American college or university. One is quite as likely to lose caste from having too much money as from having too little. You may have to live with exceeding care, you may be obhged to earn your living, or a part of it, and yet be quite as able to gain the genuine respect and regard of all whose respect is worth having as if you lived in sumptuous and reckless extravagance. But to do this you must not forget two or three things. The college is not a poor man's home; it is a rich man's home just as well. The law of the place is inexorable. Neither money nor the absence of it is to determine yoiu* standing. Personal worth and the semester examinations will settle that. You must do your college work. You can not do this without healthful Uving, and you can not do it while you are doing too much other work. Hence, it is frequently better to drop out for a year and earn money enough to return and Uve comfortably and concentrate effort on college work, rather than struggle on against an inevitable breakdown. Again, a man must not claim special favors because he is poor, and he must not forget that it is fatal if he is ashamed of his poverty. Four or five years ago I met a college boy, in a wage- earner's dress and with a crowbar over his shoulder, crossing the campus of the University of Illinois. He doffed his hat, looked significantly at the bar, and said, with a laugh: "This pen is mightier than the sword, anyhow, sir." "Yes, yes," I said to myself, "that boy is all right." A few months later, just at the opening of the fall semester, we met again as he was coming from the business office. "I 've worked Hke a dog all summer," he said, "but o r > at en m z a Going to College 287 I 've had a good time. I 've just been up after my money, and I 've got it in my pocket. Now I 'm going to change my clothes and be a gentleman once more." Again I said, "You are all right." In a few months more we met again, when he received his degree. Since then he has taken his frail and proud mother back to see her girlhood home in England once more before she dies, and he has come to be an instructor — he will yet be a professor — in one of the leading univer- sities of the country. Cheerfulness and sense settled his case and put his standing high. The Une of college work which shall be taken up is something of a problem. One who is trying to settle it is entitled to patience and sympathy; too often he is entitled to more than he gets. But it is not all to be decided for him. Although it is a large question, he must act upon it for himself. It is better not to attempt to act upon it too quickly. One is entitled to follow work which one likes to do if one likes work of any kind. The trouble with some men is that they do not grow enthu- siastic over work of any kind; but they do not count for much, and there is no real place for them in college. If one will go at something, and go at it hard, it will not be a great while before he proves his liking or his dislike for it and settles the question as to whether he had better stick to it or not. If he likes it he will probably succeed; if not, he may well change to something else, for his life will fall short of real success unless he works at something with enthusiasm. It often takes real courage to change lines of college work; but very many of the most conspicuous successes have come out of second choices in work. The spirit with which a young man goes to college is likely to develop some early results. If he thinks the 288 Education "other fellows" will have to "stand around" because he has arrived, he is quite Hkely to find himself reduced to subjection and under the necessity of modifying his opinions. If he thinks he is smart enough to fool full- grown men a great while, he is in danger of being very soon undeceived. If he faces the fact that his worth and station will soon be fixed by common sentiment, and that common sentiment is almost unerring, he will gain an agreeable and an honorable standing. If he reasons that his college teachers are reasonably capable and genuinely interested in him, and if he does not help to establish a bottomless and senseless gulf between them and himself, but tries to set up mutually helpful relations, without asking more than he ought and without obsequiousness, he will soon bring about something which will mean very much to him and to them also, and which will continue when the college days are over. It is idle to go to college without a Hvely appreciation of the main business for which one goes, that is, to do college work. A college degree worth the having can be won by nothing but serious, resolute, systematic study. Habits must be regular. Health and rational living and strong purpose are vital factors. Recreation is necessary to sound health, and companionship is essential to sane living. So a rational division of time is important. A man can not rest too much and do his work, nor can he work overmuch without endangering his powers of work. He can not by any course of irrational pleasure rob his body and mind of their native strength and natural zest without failing in the main thing for which he goes to college. Then there is the problem of student friendships and organizations. In many cases tendencies have gone so Going to College 289 far before leaving home that they settle this matter at once. If not, it settles itself very quickly when the time comes. It is interesting, sometimes amusing, to see how quickly a new student settles down with a fraternity, or with the Christian Association, or with a literary society, or with a scientific club, or with the "barbarians." Close association with congenial spirits is natural, and it is well. A boy should make close friendships with those whose friendships mean the most to him. There is something more than friendship in the student organizations. There is good experience in helping to manage an organization, in the necessity of giving way to others at times, in the habit of standing up for some- thing, and in the necessity of so steering the affairs of an organization that one can stand up for it. A student denies himself much if he does not go in with some college organization. Probably more college faculties and more parents have had anxiety over the Greek-letter fraternities than any other form of college organization. But the fear would seem to have been without occasion. They are not secret enough to harm any one. Their purposes are well enough known. They can not exist long except on the basis of decency and order; they must fail unless they stand for the good of their members and the stability, prosperity, and effectiveness of the insti- tution with which they are associated. The national organizations of these bodies are very helpful in holding things level, and provide avenues for extending friendships over the country. The upper-class men are likely to lord it over the fresh- men whom they have considerately admitted to their presence, but that is not so very bad for the freshmen; 290 Education and if the older men lord it over the youngsters, they help them, too. And very soon the freshmen themselves get to be lords in the household. So there is no great problem, certainly no great peril, in the matter of college organizations. A boy generally does well to go in with the one which he most likes, if he can get in. Few students will escape some phase of the problem of college athletics. The overwise or timid old people shake their heads in grave apprehension. The common movement toward greater physical strength for educated men and women is one of the glorious things of this American generation. The wider popularity of out-of- door sports is something in the way of a healthful offset for the unfortunate phases of the intense special study so characteristic of present-day higher education. A student will meet the athletic problem well if he stands for cleanness and true manUness in sport; if he is as much as possible in the open air and makes the most of his physical powers; if he "tries for the team," and making it, plays always hard and fair. An appointment to an ofl&ce is but a poor title to it; it is only a title to an opportunity. The title to the office comes in proved capacity to fill it. The right to go to college does not he in having the railroad fare and the clothes to wear and food to eat while there, but in the proved capacity to exercise college freedom for the making of a man. One who can not say to a crowd "No, I won't do it, and if you are going to, I am going home," has no right to go to college. If he can not keep out of bankruptcy he is too young or too dishonest to go to college. If he is so weak as to get into troubles of which he dares not tell his father or' his mother, he ought to be kept in the Going to College 291 nursery and looked after. If he is so mean as to spend the family money wantonly and disappoint ruthlessly the sacred hopes which center in him, he deserves the retribution he is more than likely to get. Going to college is starting in a noble life. If a boy has a head, a conscience, and a purpose to take with him he may go without fear. He may take his new freedom in his hand with a strong grasp and use it without hesi- tation. He will blunder, but his very blunders will be his best teachers. He will not be put down. He will not be turned aside. He will learn much that is in the books and much more that is not. He will govern himself and learn how to make the most of himself. He will find the greatest pleasure and reap the greatest good in being of some help to others. He will do things and become a part of things, and form attach- ments, and gain power, and enter into life, and look out upon a realm of endless opportunity in which he may be as great a factor and have as large a part as any one else. THE VALUE OF ROUTINE IN EDUCATION ^ By LE BARON R. BRIGGS JF all discoveries in modern education the most beautiful is the recognition of individual need and individual claim, of the infinite and fas- cinating variety in human capacity, of the awful responsibility for those who by the pressure of dull routine would stifle a himian soul, of the almost divine mission for those who help a human soul into the fulness of life. For what is nearer the divine than to see that a child has life, and has it more abundantly? "The past was wrong," says the educator of to-day; "let us right it. Education has been dark and cruel; let us make it bright and kind." Thus it comes to pass that, as many a prosperous father whose boyhood was pinched by poverty is determined that his son shall not suffer as he himself has suffered, and throws away on him money which he in turn throws away on folly and on vice, — as such a father saps a young man's strength in trying to be generous, so does many an educator of to-day, atoning for the cruelty of the past by the ener- vating luxury of the present, sap a child's strength in try- ing to be kind, change a Procrustes bed to a bed of roses. Cruel as it is to assume that a boy or a girl who is dull in one or two prescribed subjects is a dunce, it may be equally cruel to watch every inclination of the young mind, and to bend school requirements to its desires and whims. ' From " Routine and Ideals." By kind permission of the Author. Copyright 1906, by Houghton Mifflin & Company. 292 The Value of Routine in Education 293 How many persons we know whose lives and whose friends' lives are embittered because they have had from childhood their own way, and who, if their eyes are once opened to the selfishness of their position, denounce the weakness of those who in their childhood yielded to them! Unless we abandon as obsolete the notion that children are the better for obedience, why should we give them full swing in the choice of time for doing sums or for learning to read? If we do not insist that a boy shall brush his hair till he longs to have it smooth, and if then we brush it for him, we are not educating him in either neatness or eflficiency; and for aught I can see, the analogy holds good. I once knew a boy of sixteen or seventeen whose mother had done most of his reading for him. His eyes were sharp enough for things he liked (such as turtles and snakes), but he had trained them so Uttle in the alphabet that in Latin he was quite impartial in deciding whether u followed by t was ut or tu. The effect on his translation may be easily conceived. I do not mean that he made this particular mistake many times; I mean that he was constantly making mis- takes of this character; that in general he had not been trained to observe just what were the letters before him, or in what order they came. Why then teach him Latin? He was to be a scientific man, and needed some language beside his own: yet how could he learn a foreign language? How could he learn his own language? How could he learn anything from a book? How was he training himself to be "there"? "Do not make a child read," some educators say, "until he finds the need of reading, and learns for his own pleasure. Do not enfeeble his mind by forcing it." "Do not en- feeble his mind," one might answer, "by letting it go undisciphned." 294 Education If he begins late, when he has felt the need, he may learn to read rapidly; but will he have the patience for those small accuracies which form the basis of accuracy in later life, and which, unless learned early, are seldom learned at all? Do not give the child long hours; do not take away the freshness of his mind by pressing him; go slowly, but go thoroughly. Teach him, whatever he does, to do it as well as he can. Then show him how next time he can do better; and when next time comes, make him do better. However short the school hours may be, however much outside of the school may rouse or charm his mind, make him feel that school standards are high, that school work is to be done, and done well. If you are teaching a girl to sweep, you do not let her sweep the hnt under the table. Why, if you are teaching a child to study, should you let him study in a slovenly way? Why, for instance, should you teach him reading without spelUng? Get him as early as you can into a habit of thoroughness as an end in itself, of thoroughness for its own sake, and he will soon find that being thorough is interesting; that against the pain of working when he feels indolent he may match the pain of not doing what ought to be done, just as one kind of microbe is injected to kill another. When he once gets this habit firmly fixed upon him (I may say, when it has once fixed itself upon him), he may have all sorts of intellectual freedom and be safe. Immatm-e people constantly cry out against routine. Yet routine is an almost necessary condition of effective hmnan life. An undisciplined genius, like Shelley's, in- spires now and then; a spirit like Milton's, as eager for liberty and as impatient of bondage, yet forced by the man it animated to do his bidding, which rightly or wrongly he believed to be the bidding of God, inspires oftener and deeper. The Value of Routine in Education 295 If routine is forced upon us, we are delivered from the great temptation of letting industry become a matter of caprice, and of waiting for perfect mental and physical conditions {Italiam fugientem) before we settle down to our work. If routine is not forced upon us, we must force it upon ourselves, or we shall go to pieces. "Professor X is a dry teacher. Shakespeare is the greatest of poets, and hence one of the greatest inspirers of men. Why isn't it better to cut Professor X's lecture and read Shakespeare, — or even to read Kipling?" First and obviously, because you can read Shakespeare at another time, whereas Professor X's lecture is given at a fixed hour, is part of a course, and is a link in an important chain. Next, because attending Professor X's lecture is for the time being your business. The habit of attending to business is a habit you nlust form and keep, before you can be regarded as "there." Moreover, this habit does away with all manner of time- wasting indecision. If you take the hour for Shakespeare, you may spend half of it in questioning what play to begin, or whether to read another author after all, — and mean- time a friend drops in. "I know a person," says Professor James, "who will poke the fire, set chairs straight, pick dust specks from the floor, arrange his table, snatch up the newspaper, take down any book which catches his eye, trim his nails, waste the morning anyhow, in short, and all without premedita- tion, — simply because the one thing he ought to attend to is the preparation of a noonday lesson in formal logic which he detests — anything but that!" It is astonishing how eagerly men struggle to escape from the training that prepares them for Ufe, how they labor to convince themselves that what they long to do is worthier and nobler than what they ought to do — and 296 Education must do if tliey are to succeed in what they long to do. I once knew a student, against all advice, to leave college in the middle of the Freshman year, because, since he was going into the ministry, he was eager to devote his whole time to the Bible. Later he saw his mistake, and came back. I knew another and a wiser student who, having gone into the ministry without a college education, left it for years of sacrifice in money and of the hardest kind of work, to win that knowledge of books and men without which no modern minister is equipped for efficient service. The efficient people are those who know their business and do it promptly and patiently, who when leisure comes have earned it, and know they have earned it; who when one thing is done can turn their attention squarely and completely to the next thing, and do that. The effi- cient student is he who has as nearly as possible a fixed time for every part of his work; who, if he has a recitation at ten and another at twelve, knows in advance what he is to study at eleven. He has most time for work and most time for unalloyed play, since he makes use of that invalu- able friend to labor, — routine. "Habit," says the Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, "is a labor-saving invention which enables a man to get along with less fuel, — that is all; for fuel is force, you know, just as much in the page I am writing for you as in the locomotive or the legs which carry it to you." "Habit," says Professor James, "simplifies our move- ments, makes them accurate, and diminishes fatigue." "Man," he continues, "is born with a tendency to do more things than he has ready-made arrangements for in his nerve centers. Most of the performances of other animals are automatic. But in him the number of them is so enor- mous that most of them must be the fruit of painful study. If practice did not make perfect, or habit economize the The Value of Routine in Education 297 expense of nervous and muscular energy, he would be in a sorry plight. "As Dr. Maudsley says: 'If an act became no easier after being done several times, if the careful direction of consciousness were necessary to its accomplishment on each occasion, it is evident that the whole activity of a hfetime might be confined to one or two deeds — that no progress could take place in development. '"A man might be occupied all day in dressing and un- dressing himself; the attitude of his body would absorb all his attention and energy; the washing of his hands or the fastening of a button would be as difficult to him on each occasion as to the child on its first trial; and he would, furthermore, be completely exhausted by his exertions.' "The great thing, then, in all education," continues Professor James, "is to make our nervous system our ally instead of our enemy. It is to fund and capitalize our acquisitions, and live at ease upon the interest of the fund. For this we must make automatic and habitual, as early as possible, as many useful actions as we can, and guard against the growing into ways that are likely to be dis- advantageous to us, as we should guard against the plague. The more of the details of our daily life we can hand over to the effortless custody of automatism, the more our higher powers of mind will be set free for their own proper work. "There is no more miserable human being than one in whom nothing is habitual but indecision. . . . Full half the time of such a man goes to the deciding, or regret- ting, of matters which ought to be so ingrained in him as practically not to exist for his consciousness at all. If there be such daily duties not yet ingrained in any one of my readers, let him begin this very hour to set the matter right." 298 Education All this shows the true meaning of thoroughness. I have heard it said that thoroughness in education is pre- cisely what we do not want, since thorough work becomes mechanical work, and robs the student of that creative joy which should accompany every exercise of the mind. Yet the "effortless custody of automatism" in the lower things frees the mind for creative joy in the higher. The pianist who can not through long practice commit to routine all the ordinary movements of the fingers on the keys can never play the music of Schumann or of Beethoven. Sometimes I think that our happiness depends chiefly on our cheerful acceptance of routine, on our refusal to assume, as many do, that daily work and daily duty are a kind of slavery. If we can learn to think of routine as the best economy, we shall not despise it. People call it be- numbing; and so it is if we do not understand it: but if we understand that through it we can do more work in less time, and have more time left for the expansion of our souls, that through it we cultivate the habit which makes people know we can be counted, on, we shall cease to say hard things of it. Even in those whose lives are narrowly cir- cumscribed, we see the splendid courage and fideUty which come with faithful routine. The longer I Uve, the more I admire as a class the women who fill small positions in New England public schools, the typical schoolmistresses or " schoolmarms " of our more Puritanical towns and villages. Their notions of English grammar are as inflexible as their notions of duty; hke Overbury's Pedant, they "dare not think a thought that the nominative case governs not the verb"; their theology may be as narrow as their philology; they have httle prim- nesses that make us smile: but they have the hearts of heroines. Pitifully paid, often with others to support, often subject to ignorant and wrong-headed committees. The Value of Routine in Education 299 and obliged against every instinct to adopt new methods when education is periodically overhauled, often with little physical health, and living on courage and "wire," with few social diversions higher than the Sunday-school picnic, and few hopes of rest in this world higher than the Home for Aged Women, they are at their posts day by day, week by week, year by year. These schoolmistresses, though they may not know it, illustrate the absolute necessity of routine for steadily effective living. In Uttle things they may show the hard and wooden quality of a mind that works in the treadmill day after day, and may thus give a handle to those critics who scoff at routine; but if their small accuracies seem pretentiously Uttle, their devotion is unpretentiously great. Through habit, supported by unyielding conscience, they have forced upon themselves a routine without which they could not live. A boy when he meets with loss or grief or disaster, or even when he feels the excitement of joyful expectation, is likely to stop work altogether. He has "no heart for it," he says ; he "can not do it." A young man crossed in love, a young woman who loses father, mother, or bosom friend — these may pine and fret, and suffer the sorrow, for days or weeks or months, to stop their lives, may cease to live except as burdens to themselves and others; but, young or old, a trained man or woman whose heart and will are strong keeps on. There is always somebody or something to work for; and while there is, life must be, and shall become, worth living. "In summer or winter," said the proud advertisement of an old steamboat line, "in summer or winter, in storm or calm, the ' Commonwealth ' and the ' Plymouth Rock ' invariably make the passage"; and this should be the truth about you and me. TO STUDENTS 1 By RUDYARD KIPLING CCORDING to the ancient and laudable jj custom of the schools, I, as one of your wandering scholars retiu-ned, have been in- ^ structed to speak to you. The only penalty youth must pay for its enviable privileges is that of listening to people known, alas, to be older and alleged to be wiser. On such occasions Youth feigns an air of polite interest and reverence, while Age tries to look virtuous. Which pretences sit uneasily on both of them. On such occasions very little truth is spoken. I will try not to depart from the convention. I will not tell you how the sins of youth are due very largely to its virtues; how its arrogance is very often the result of its innate shyness; how its brutality is the outcome of its natm-al virginity of spirit. These things are true, but yoiu- preceptors might object to such texts without the proper notes and emendations. But I can try to speak to you more or less truthfully on certain matters to which you may give the attention and belief proper to your years. When, to use a detestable phrase, you go out into the battle of life you will be confronted by an organized conspiracy which will try to make you believe that the world is governed by the idea of wealth for wealth's sake, and that all means which lead to the acquisition of that wealth are, if not laudable, at least expedient. ^ From the author's address delivered before the students of McGill University, Montreal, October 17, 1907. 300 To Students 301 Those of you who have fitly imbibed the spirit of our university — and it was not a materiaUstic university which trained a scholar to take both the Craven and the Ireland in England — will violently resent that thought, but you will live and eat and move and have your being in a world dominated by that thought. Some of you will probably succumb to the poison of it. Now, I do not ask you not to be carried away by the first rush of the great game of Ufe. That is expecting you to bie more than human. But I do ask you, after the first heat of the game, that you draw breath and watch your fellows for a while. Sooner or later you will see some man to whom the idea of wealth as mere wealth does not appeal, whom the methods of amassing that wealth do not interest, and who will not accept money if you offer it to him at a certain price. At first you will be inclined to laugh at this man and to think that he is not smart in his ideas. I suggest that you watch him closely, for he will presently demonstrate to you that money dominates everybody except the man who does not want money. You may meet that man on your farm, in your village, or in your legislature. But be sure that, whenever or wherever you meet him, as soon as it comes to a direct issue between you, his little finger will be thicker than your loins. You will go in fear of him: he will not go in fear of you. You will do what he wants: he will not do what you want. You will find that you have no weapon in your armory with which you can attack him; no argument with which you can appeal to him. Whatever you gain, he will gain more. I would Uke you to study that man. I would Uke you better to be that man, because from the lower point of view it does n't pay to be obsessed by the desire of wealth 302 Education for wealth's sake. If more wealth is necessary to you, for purposes not your own, use your left hand to acquire it, but keep your right for your proper work in life. If you employ both arms in that game you will be in danger of stooping; in danger also of losing yoiu- soul. But in spite of everything you may succeed, you may be success- ful, you may acquire enormous wealth. In which case I warn you that you stand in grave danger of being spoken and written of and pointed out as a smart man. And that is one of the most terrible calamities that can overtake a sane, civilized, white man in our Empire to-day. They say youth is the season of hope, ambition, and uplift — that the last word youth needs is an exhorta^ tion to be cheerful. Some of you here know, and I remember, that youth can be a season of great depression, despondencies, doubts, and waverings, the worse because they seem to be peculiar to .ourselves and incommuni- cable to our fellows. There is a certain darkness into which the soul of the young man sometimes descends — a horror of desolation, abandonment, and realized worth- lessness, which is one of the most real of the hells in which we are compelled to walk. I know of what I speak. This is due to a variety of causes, the chief of which is the egotism of the human animal itself. But I can tell you for your comfort that the chief cure for it is to interest yourself, to lose your- self, in some issue not personal to yourself — in another man's trouble, or, preferably, another man's joy. But if the dark hour does'not vanish, as sometimes it does not; if the black cloud will not lift, as sometimes it will not; let me tell you again for your comfort that there are many liars in the world, but there are no liars like our own sen- sations. The despair and the horror mean nothing, To Students 303 because there is for you nothing irremediable, nothing ineffaceable, nothing irrecoverable in anything you may have said or thought or done. If for any reason you can not believe or have not been taught to believe in the infinite mercy of Heaven which has made us all and will take care we do not go far astray, at least believe that you are not yet sufficiently important to be taken too seriously by the powers above us or beneath us. In other words, take anything and everything seriously except yourselves. I regret that I noticed certain signs of irreverent laughter when I alluded to the word "smartness." I have no message to deliver, but if I had a message to deliver to a university which I love, to the young men who have the future of their country to mold, I would say with all the force at my command: Do not be smart. If I were not a doctor of this university with a deep interest in its discipline, and if I did not hold the strongest views on that reprehensible form of amusement known as "rushing," I would say that whenever and wherever you find one of yoxir dear little playmates showing signs of smartness in his work, his talk, or his play, take him tenderly by the hand, by both hands, by the back of the neck, if necessary, and lovingly, playfully but firmly, lead him to a knowledge of higher and more interesting things. THE COLLEGE AND THE FRESHMAN ^ By WILLIAM R. CASTLE, Jr. Fi?E read often in novels that this crisis or that, some sudden responsibility, a chance word or glance, transformed the hero in a moment from boy to man. In real Ufe there is seldom this magic "presto, change." The trans- formation consists in gradual development, covering months or even years, the plastic traits of boyhood solidifying insensibly into the rigid lines of manly char- acter. There may well be, however, a particular moment when this process of change accelerates, when significant influences are brought to bear in rapid succession, each leaving its indelible mark. In the case of thousands of American youth this crit- ical period comes when the boy leaves school and enters college. It is of extreme importance, therefore, that during the Freshman year the youth should be given every opportunity to develop along ennobling Unes. Until then, he has lived at home under the continuous supervision of his parents; in school he has trudged, more or less industriously, through the prescribed cur- riculum. At boarding school, if he has had a few years of this life, conditions under which he has developed have been similar. The responsibility of parents has been transferred to masters, the refining influence of the mother, with its obvious advantages, exchanged for the spirit of self-reliance and power of self -adjustment result- ^ By permission of the author and " The Atlantic Monthly.'' Copy- right, 1909. 304 The College and the Freshman 305 ing from closer contact with other boys. Seldom, in either case, has the boy been expected to exercise any power of initiative. Broadly speaking, triis preUminary training is as it should be. I say nothing of the failm-e of certain par- ents, and of certain schools, to make the best of their opportunities, because I am depicting conditions as they exist, and the boy who may be expected to result. This at least is granted by all: that, imtil he is seventeen, the boy must be ruled, must follow the course laid down by his elders; that he is not competent to make important decisions for himself, and that his character should be molded in such a way as to make him best able to meet intelhgently the problems which maturer years must bring. The average age of admission to college is nineteen. For several reasons, it should not be over seventeen. Obviously, it would be better for a professional man to begin his work at twenty-four than at twenty-six. Look- ing in the other direction, the average boy should be able, without undue effort, to finish his preparatory-school work at seventeen. This, indeed, is often the case, and the year or two given by so many parents avowedly to "character development," really because a boy who enters college so young is supposed to be socially handi- capped, is usually a year wasted; in many instances worse than wasted, because a year or more of compara- tive idleness does away with the habit of vigorous appli- cation so necessary in college. During his final school year the boy studies hard, because success in his college entrance examinations is a prize worth striving for. Unless he is in poor physical condition, a summer should give rest enough. A third reason for early matriculation, in many ways the most 306 Education important and certainly that least generally appre- ciated, is twofold. The younger boy is more amenable to discipline; he is correspondingly less hable to temp- tation. It is this phase of the situation which I propose to, discuss: to inquire whether the college gives adequate protection to its first-year students; what measures may be taken to broaden and intensify the scope of this pro- tection; and whether a younger Freshman class would be likely to make these measures more effective. In speaking of the American college, I have in mind, not the very small college where the boarding-school system is continued and the course prescribed, but the university with a more or less complete elective system, with Freshman classes of two hundred or more, which, through their very numbers, preclude any close association between the members of the Faculty and the students. Illustrations I shall draw largely from Harvard, since con- ditions there are duplicated to greater or less extent in other institutions, and since, especially by graduates of other colleges. Harvard is considered a place where little is done in individual care of students. I shall take up, moreover, neither the abnormally good nor the abnor- mally bad student, but the average straightforward youth, who is as typical of America as is the college itself. On the opening day of his Freshman year, a boy is for the first time given a latchkey. His time is his own. Like a business man or a college professor, he must meet his engagements, but beyond this he is free. He may use the intervening hours properly or improperly, as he thinks fit. There are no specified hours when he must be in his room at work over his books, no law which sends him to bed at eleven o'clock. He is not compelled to sign a pledge that he will use no intoxicating liquors. The College and the Freshman 307 He may choose his friends where and how he will. In all probabihty a city with its blatant allurements, or, still worse, a small country town with its vileness cleverly hidden from all but the inquisitive, is near at hand. It is characteristic of a Freshman to be inquisitive, and there are sure to be guides, more gentlemanly, per- haps, but no less iniquitous, than the guides of Paris, who are ready to show him the sights. These guides may even be among the student body, for colleges seldom print in their catalogues what I once saw in that of a small Southern institution: "No ruffians, idle loafers, nor cigarette smokers need apply." In spite of the splendid climax, most American colleges are filled with cigarette smokers, and contain — for a time, at least — many idle loafers and a few rufl&ans. To some parents this freedom appears a frightful thing, because to them it means drunkenness, gambling, association with loose women. An anxious mother, not long since, asked me whether she should risk sending her boy, twenty-one years old, to college next year, or whether it would be wiser to keep him at home two or three years longer. She recognized the black side of the picture, but I could only answer that, unless the boy were strangely immature, he would become each year that she tucked him into bed less able to meet the inevitable temptations of manhood. She was wrong in associating temptations of this sort exclusively with the college. They are actually those which meet every man, in every walk of Hfe, and are talked of as college vices only because the transition from school to college is usually coincident with the transition from boyhood to manhood. This very fact, however, may well make neglectful parents hesitate. 308 Education those who have allowed their sons to grow up as best they might without moral tutelage, without insistence on the sacredness of the best in hfe. To those, on the other hand, who have trained their boys, who have given them high ideals, who have been frank, who know them, in short, the step appears an opportunity. But granted this freedom, the value of this trjdng-out process, has the college itself no responsibilities? Shall it blink the dangers and, standing aside, allow these young men to weather the storms, or to break, as their previous training or chance may dictate? Most assur- edly not. The college so doing is guilty of gross neglect toward the parents who have done their part, and toward the sons of parents who have not. Such a col- lege fails to do its duty. Still more, it misses its oppor- tunities. Let us see, then, what is done now, and what further might be accomplished. The first problem that confronts the Freshman is the selection of his courses. For the solution of this, each boy entering Harvard College is assigned to some mem- ber of the Faculty who acts officially as his adviser. He has already answered in writing Various questions, among which is one as to his intended profession or occupation. In accordance with the answer to this inquiry, advisers are usually chosen. The advantages are obvious. The boy is enabled to map out a combination of courses which have practical bearing on his life work; he believes in the selection be- cause it is made on the advice of a man already eminent in the profession to which he aspires; he has, moreover, a scheme which will do away with meaningless scatter- ing, which is introductory to a complete college com«e, and which really leads somewhere. Unfortunately, the disadvantages, to one who has The College and the Freshman 309 studied the system in all its aspects, appear equally clear, though less obvious to the layman. For one thing, too much stress is laid on the practical aspect of college work, too little on the cultural, the result being a deplor- able narrowing of intellectual activity; excellent train- ing for the specific object, perhaps, but certainly not excellent education. The adviser, by reason of praiseworthy absorption in his own profession, unconsciously adds to this mistaken attitude by suggesting courses not bearing directly on that profession as necessary merely to fill the schedule. From the outset the boy feels that his duty lies in grasping thoroughly those subjects — chemistry, if he is to be a doctor; mathematics, if an engineer — which will be of direct, practical service later, and quite loses sight of the fact that college should teach him to think intelligently on many subjects, as well as to know accu- rately one subject. What is more, the boy of eighteen seldom knows what his profession is to be, into what new and vital channels of thought his study may lead him. He has, to be sure, outgrown childish enthusiasms, no longer holds as his highest ambition the wish to be a circus rider or a chauffeur; but his decisions may yet be little indicative of the future. That he enjoys sketch- ing is no sign that he will be an architect; that he is able to watch an operation without fainting does not prove that he will be a surgeon. Under the advice of an architect or a doctor, therefore, he may plan a college course which will be narrow, without even the advantage of narrowness along the Hnes of his career. Many boys, finally, admit frankly that they have no professions in view. Each of these is assigned to an adviser selected for quite different reasons, — because he 310 Education is a friend, or because he seems by nature fitted to deal with that particular boy. But of the boy's early envi- ronment and antecedents little is known; of his character, as little. An adviser so chosen can thus only suggest courses which seem to him most suitable for the average boy, a theoretical individual of whose actual existence I am gravely in doubt. The Freshman is very likely to neglect his work. When disaster comes, the irate father often visits the dean's office to complain that his son was wrongly ad- vised, that he should not have taken mathematics, because he "never could work with figures." Usually the diagnosis is wrong. In the instances where it is correct, where the boy is really incapable of certain mental work, the father should himself have discussed matters with his son, and should not have trusted to omniscience in a human and therefore fallible adviser. Generally, a boy can do his work if he will, but the play theory, originating in the kindergarten, appeals to the pleasure-loving boy emotionally, as, translated into the more dignified but still specious terms of "interest" and "special aptitude," it appeals intellectually to the father. It is extraordinary how many men there are, themselves successful through years of unremitting ap- plication to duty, who would shield their sons from the necessity of real mental effort, under the delusion that boys should study only what it is a pleasure to study. They forget that the positive joy of success is greater than the negative pleasure of idleness; that success comes through power, and power through training of the mind. They fail to see, moreover, that the mind, like the body, can be brought to high efiiciency only through hard work. But even so, we hark back to the responsibility of the The College and the Freshman 311 college. We can not have school study hours, but we can make the Freshman ashamed not to study. At present, when the boy has made out his schedule of courses, his relations with his adviser often cease abruptly; save for the acceptance of an occasional invitation to luncheon, which the adviser deems it irksome but neces- sary to send, and which is accepted in the same spirit, or a call to request permission to substitute for a course which has proved difficult another which has the reputa- tion of being easy, the Freshman usually ignores the Faculty. In Princeton the preceptorial system makes this state of affairs impossible, since each student is under the continuous supervision of the preceptor responsible for him. As long as preceptorial duties are principally advisory, — as long, I mean, as the student looks upon his preceptor as a guide, not as a policeman, — this system would seem to be an ideal one. In immediate, practical application, difficulties arise in the securing, and still more in the keeping, of good men. The qualifications of a good preceptor are many; and any one, no matter how highly developed, is inadequate without some admixture of others. A preceptor should be a good teacher, never allowing his zeal in the acqui- sition of knowledge to quench his zeal for imparting what he knows to others. He should be able to inspire others with his own enthusiasm, to guide that of his charges into proper channels. President Lowell said, a short time ago, in another connection, that "the disease of enthusiasm is danger- ous only when not contagious." The preceptor, then, should have contagious enthusiasm, not that useless kind that ranges in solitude and is exhausted in com- munication. He should be young, not necessarily in 312 Education years, but in spirit: able to sympathize with the care- free exuberance of youth, able to understand that as a baby develops his lungs through crying, so the Fresh- man expands his soul through noisy demonstration. Of prime importance is it also that the preceptor should be a gentleman, broad-minded, sensitive to poten- tial good quahties in others, refined but not effeminate, tactful, a man able to acconunodate himself to the standards of others, and at the same time raising higher standards of his own for them to emulate. Such men are not rare. Our colleges graduate them every year. But it is hard to make them realize, what the world does not as yet admit, that the position of preceptor is an honorable one, not a rung in the ladder of success, but a station, dignified, full of opportunities; that it may be made the highest of all offices, that of molder of men. Another deterrent, and a proper one, is the present lack of adequate compensation. Until the position, as a permanent position, promises salary sufficient to sup- port a family, it can not, all other considerations aside, be keenly attractive to the right kind of man. From the college point of view, such salaries would mean an increase in the annual expense budget that would make the system, in its entirety, prohibitive until the pubUc recognizes its value to the extent of tangible support. I have dwelt at some length on this preceptorial sys- tem because it is already in existence in Princeton, where its value is recognized by leading schoolmasters of the country, and because in the English universities it has long been considered an essential part of college train- ing. Before the system can be thoroughly tested in America, however, public opinion must be revolution- ized, and a class of young men created, the equals, The College and the Freshman 313 socially as well as intellectually, of those who deem it a privilege to serve as tutors in Oxford and Cambridge. No great educational reform *has ever been accom- plished without such a revolution. The elective system was greeted with jeers and abuse. It, fought its way to public approbation through its immense value to the individual; and its gradual development into recognition of communal as well as of individual needs is followed with respect. No such sudden imposition of the preceptorial system is advisable, even were it practicable. If we had the men to do it, we could ignore the belief held by so many that it is a police device, contrary to principles of indi- vidual freedom, a subversion of established educational theories that accord to each boy the right to make un- restricted choice in all matters — strange how quickly these theories become "established" — and prove its truth through its triumph. But we have not the men, and inferior substitutes would kill the movement at the start. Let the Fresh- man once discover that his preceptor is dull, or ill- mannered, or morally flabby, and his influence is gone; better, indeed, the old system and "the devil take the hindmost." In this particular reform it is wiser to go gradually, establishing the correctness and positive value of each step taken, and thereby creating a public demand for which there will be individual response. The danger, therefore, lies in inertia. Since the col- leges have neither means nor men to introduce complete reform at once, they waver between various possible, but seemingly unimportant, innovations, or else dismiss the whole matter as not, for the moment, worth bother- ing about. They should, on the contrary, be explorers, seizing on whatever seem reasonable hypotheses, and 314 Education thus blazing the trail that may lead, eventually, to an even more satisfactory system than the preceptorial. Some reforms, involving neither enormous sums of money nor radical changes in collegiate discipUne and teaching, might well be made at once. A very short time would prove their worth, and place them beyond the realm of experiment. Most of us remember well the sweetness of those surreptitious expeditions to secluded pools when we sported, happy in our naked feedom, doubly happy because no parental or tutorial eye watched jealously our tentative essays into water a little too deep, or cur- rents a little too strong, for om- tender years. Innocent those expeditions were, guileless attempts to reach into the unknown, of no consequence it seems, now, except as brighter hours to remember among the many bright hours of childhood. But some of us remember, perhaps, the sudden tragedy, the companion caught in an unex- pected eddy, bruised cruelly on the rocks, or sinking forever from our sight. And then came the weary home- ward march, the mother, broken-hearted, and the grad- ual readjustment of our Uves. Boys of ten and boys of eighteen — their instincts are curiously alike. You can not police the pools of a great city any more than you can those of a mountain stream. What is more, you should not want to, because the boy's instinct will lead him as sm-ely to the one as to the other, and the presence of police will make him deceitful as well as over-venturesome. But there is another way. There was a master in yom- school who was all you aspired to be. He went with you on voyages of discovery, fished, hunted, swam with you, and all the time unconsciously taught you self-reliance, so that you might yom-self recognize and The College and the Freshman 315 avoid dangers. Such are the masters who can help the boy who has grown up; the boy who has never looked beyond the shutters of his mother's sitting room and can not swim at all; the boy who, with those he loved and respected, has learned somewhat of the world, a strong but cautious swimmer; he who, alas, has got on as best he may, who thinks he knows all, but has really seen only one side, who thinks it brave, when in reality it is only foolhardy, to swim down the rapids. It is the first class and the last of these boys who cause the trouble in college: who go under themselves, and sometimes drag others with them. The parents of the first lay all blame on the college. Those of the last cxu-se the boy for being a fool or a knave when, as a matter of fact, he has never really had a chance to be anything else. The dean hears the stories of both, and finds them equally bitter. It is not surprising, therefore, that he, more than other college officers, insists that something must be done to save these "hindmost" from the devil. His ideal, hopeless always of realization, has been to know personally and to help each member of the class. When one falls, he feels himself to blame. Seldom is this true, but a good dean considers that his office invests him with responsibility for the moral well- being of all the students; and the magnitude of the obligation, making its fulfillment physically impossible, but little mitigates his sense of failure. It does make him, however, eager to share the responsibility with others. The first step toward adequate care of the Freshman class must be to assemble the members, either as a whole or in separate but integral divisions. This includes, as Freshman problems are distinct, segregation from the upper classes. Sections of dormitories, certain buildings, 316 Education or better, a group of buildings, if one large enough for the whole class is not available, should be reserved exclu- sively for Freshmen. This is already done to some extent at Yale, where, however, as the buildings reserved do not accommodate the entire class, it serves little purpose as a test. In many colleges the niore popular buildings, for those who can afford comparatively luxurious quarters, are con- ducted as private enterprises. As the owners of these buildings, however, are always responsible to the col- lege, it is to their advantage to keep on good terms with the college officers, and they would natm-ally subscribe to any new regulations. When adequate accommodations had been provided, — rooms covering the widest possible range of price, — a rule would have to be made that no Freshman could room elsewhere than in the designated building or group of buildings. Some parents would probably at first feel aggrieved, wanting their sons to room with upper-class friends, or considering the quarters provided not suffi- ciently fashionable. Certain exceptions would of course have to be made in the case of boys who, for one reason or another, found it necessary to live at home. Aside from these, intelU- gent parents would admit that, since their boys are con- fided to the care of the college, the college has the right to make whatever reasonable provisions it sees fit for the proper safeguarding of its students. Should it prove necessary to place the Freshmen in separate divisions, possibly at some distance from one another, much of the value to be gained from this grouping would be lost, since there would not be the advantage of intercourse between all the different kinds, — boys from private and public schools, from city and country, from East and The College and the Freshman 317 West. I am convinced, however, that even so it would be an improvement on the present method of mixing at random members of the various classes. This segregation would not in itself have any mate- rial influence in making the first year in college less dan- gerous. Indeed, offhand, it would appear to some to increase the dangers. The question would surely be asked, "What could be more pernicious than the herd- ing together of a lot of irresponsible Freshmen?" It can not be denied that Freshmen are irresponsible; they are also noisy, sometimes naughty, but seldom bad. The Freshman who goes wrong usually does so under the perverting influence of an older man. This grouping is not a cure. It is merely preparing the patient for the operation, or, to put it less lugu- briously, is setting aside seats from which the children may watch the circus. The class is assembled, now "on with the play," which must not end, hke the song in Pagliacci, in tears. The next step is to procure suitable protectors. The elective system has brought with it popular lecture courses, largely resorted to by Freshmen. As instruc- tion becomes more efiicient, these courses are conducted more and more on the "laboratory method," as Presi- dent Eliot calls it. One hour of each week is devoted to "section meetings," — divisions of the class presided over by younger instructors, who discuss with the students dif- ferent phases of the lectures and the prescribed reading. As a result, every well-ordered college has on its teach- ing staff a large number of young men, not necessarily members of the Faculty, who, in their section meet- ings, come to know fairly well the students under them. These, then, are the men, young enough not to be for- bidding yet old enough to be respected, who might well 318 Education be drawn into service as general advisers. In certain courses, such, for example, as Freshman English in Har- vard, where the instructor meets his students, not only in the class room but in private conferences, he can, if he will, know intimately all the men under him. In courses where there are no individual conferences, this does not usually occur, unless the instructor creates opportunities to meet his students outside. In some way,, therefore, this more intimate contact between instructor and stu- dents must be made the rule rather than the exception. Fortunately the solution exists, even under estab- lished conditions. Most unmarried instructors serve also as proctors in college buildings: officers appointed to keep order, each in his own particular building or divi- sion of a building. It would thus be a simple matter to appoint as proctors in Freshman dormitories the instruc- tors in Freshman courses. It would be equally simple in these coiirses to depart from the rigid, alphabetical assignment to sections, giving Jones, the instructor, not the men from E to K, but those who live in his own building. In addition, Jones should also hold ofl&cial appoint- ment, if possible with additional salary, as general ad- viser to these same men. It might also be wise co appoint in each case an adviser chosen from the Faculty, since it would bring the student into contact with another older man, and since he might feel more confidence in the wisdom of his choice of studies if that choice were made with the sanction of a professor. Jones, in the mean- time, would meet his charges in three distinct ways, — as instructor, as proctor, and as adviser; so that, imless he were a surprisingly inhuman individual, he could hardly fail to know them well, and to gain their respect and confidence. The College and the Freshman 319 But just here, strangely enough, is where the chief diflBculty arises, and where the most definite reform would have to be made. The young instructor to-day is too often not a human individual, in the sense that he must be to attract the Freshman. Too often he is selected, not primarily, but exclusively, for his learning. A young man, after three or four years of devotion to his books, graduates from college summa cum laude. He knows few of his classmates because he has never had time to meet them. The book of "college life" he has never opened. After graduation he applies him- self with even greater assiduity, deciphers obscure man- uscripts, writes a thesis on "Boileau's Influence on Rousseau," — which the world had thought negative, if it thought about it at all, — or on some rare genus of pre- historic mosquito, and then suddenly finds himself bUnking in the face of an applauding world, a Doctor of Philosophy. \He is conscientious, and therefore gives his instruc- tion with meticulous accuracy but without enthusiasm. How can he be enthusiastic in the teaching of some- thing which does not interest him, and before students whom he behoves determined to gain as little as possi- ble from his stores of wisdom? As proctor he does the work of a policeman, an irritating stickler for the letter of the rules and regulations; but even as a policeman often ineffective, because he does not see, and is not interested to probe, beneath the sin-face of undergrad- uate hfe. It would be useless to appoint him a gen- eral adviser, because his advice would never pass beyond books; because when conscience drove him to the rooms of a student it would destroy spontaneity; he would give no advice concerning life, because the Freshman would know more of life than he. 320 Education Will the college consent to give him up? It is bound to him through loyalty, the wish to reward years of faithful work. It believes, perhaps, that he will write distinguished books, and would like those books to issue from its doors. These reasons are excellent, but are not sufficient if the students are to suffer. The truism is often overlooked that a college exists for its students, not for its Faculty. The mistake made is in putting such men in charge of Freshman courses, where even a sug- gestion of pedantry is disastrous, and where the ability to arouse enthusiasm for study is infinitely more impor- tant than the inculcation of fact. I have no wish to ignore the value of the Ph.D. degree. The solid learning it represents is necessary to minute research, to the proper guidance of graduate students. What is deplorable is that its possession should be held to entitle a man to a position as instructor in elementary courses. The ideal certainly would be a scholar, but one fired with the enthusiasm to teach, to kindle enthu- siasm for learning in dormant minds. There are many such, men as different as possible from the exaggerated type described above; but there are not enough to go round. The second choice should be from among the ranks of young, eager, intelligent graduates; men not so learned, perhaps, but often better able to teach; men whose ideals are high, whose enthusiasm is infectious; who would be glad of two or three years of experience, both in teaching and in leading younger men. Such men would imbue the Freshman with respect for his work in general, and interest in the particular subject; a result of incalculable value, not only intellectually, but morally as well, since there is no better moral safeguard than disinterested ambition to excel. The College and the Freshman 321 Intentionally, I have suggested that this supervision be dependent for its value more on the personality of the supervisor than on any stated regulations, because in- fluence exerted through personality sinks more deeply into the mental and moral fiber than does habit gained through obedience to arbitrary laws. If rules are im- posed, the modern young man demands their reason. If he does not understand them, he obeys only because disobedience means punishment, and the formative pur- pose of the rules is lost. Given advisers with whom he is in sympathy, the student will intelligently submit to regulations which experience has proved necessary for the mass, whereas he will rebel against the same regulations when they appear personally irksome, if he has not been brought to appre- ciate their general utility. Certain rules there must eventually be, as there are written laws of the state and unwritten laws of society. Exactly what they must be in detail, time will suggest. They must be flexible, not rigid; hortatory, not penal; standards devised to aid adviser as well as students. It would be unwise, for example, to insist that lights be out at eleven o'clock, or to make it a misdemeanor to come home after that hour. It might well be wise to insist that every Freshman entering his building after eleven o'clock should hand in his name to the doorkeeper. Frequent repetition would suggest to the adviser that the boy was frittering away his time, or was falUng into bad habits, and he could act accordingly. It would probably be unwise to rule that all Freshmen should study in their rooms from eight to ten, or that cards should never be played in the building. The adviser would soon discover whether men were seriously neglecting their work or were gambling. He 322 Education would not be expected to report single instances of der- eliction from duty to the dean; he would be obliged to report persistent neglect of his advice, and the students would know hun to be under this obligation. Thus, gradually, a complete system of protection could be built up. It would not be irritating to the students, because it would be founded on mutual understanding. It would aid students who aimed to do right. It would aid the college more quickly, and with less danger of error, to get rid of the few students determined to do wrong. In still another and quite different way much might be done toward guarding the Freshman from the dan- gers of his natural inquisitiveness. In every college there are numbers of good upper-class men who are eager to cooperate with the Faculty in starting Freshmen along the right path, and it is amazing that thus far so little advantage has been taken of their services. Each of these upper-class men should be given a Ust of from five to ten Freshmen whom he would make it his duty to know. He would talk over with them their work and their play; their study, their amusements, their ath- letics. He would make sure that each, outside of his lessons, was given a sane interest, something to do for the college, whether participation in football or in de- bating or in writing for the college papers. He would see to it far more effectively than the dean, or even than the advisers, that each was getting his fair chance so- cially. He would report cases where financial aid was needed, or admonition, or encouragement. As it is at present, many fellows are lonely; many, especially those from a distance, miss the recognition they deserve merely because they ignorantly room out- side the sphere of imdergraduate life, or, knowing no The College and the Freshman 323 one at first, fall in with uncongenial classmates, and, becoming discouraged, withdraw into themselves. To such lonely men the dangerous pleasures existing outside of college appeal as substitutes for what they have missed in college. These tragedies would be far less hkely to occur if all members of the class were thrown together, and natural associations were facilitated through the provision of upper-class men and advisers. One of the chief difficulties in dealing with the student body to-day is lack of frankness on the part of some toward the dean. They regard him traditionally as a penal officer. If he questions them about themselves, they fear he is trying to implicate them in offenses against discipline. Under the new system this evil would at least be mitigated. Freshmen would talk more freely with their student and official advisers, because nearer to them, and because no traditional reticence would have to be overcome. This would finally also break down the barrier between them and the dean, because they would find, in the course of time, that their self-revelation, when reported to him, was so reported only that he might add his help and encouragement. Even at present, the most useful constructive work a dean does is made possible by what other students tell him of their fellows — students who know that informa- tion thus given is never used in discipline cases, but simply to make advice and encouragement more perti-' nent. Discipfine which depended in the slightest degree on what one student told of another would be as intoler- able in college as in school. Under a more systematized plan of cooperation with students, the possibifities of extension in this work of strengthening and upbuilding loom large and inspiring. - Let us suppose, then, that the Freshmen are grouped 324 Education together, that professors at the head of large courses have been made to see that instructors who imbue the students with a love of work are more valuable than those who discuss minutiae with soul-deadening accu- racy; that these instructors serve as proctors and advisers to the men in their sections; that they have working with them a number of responsible upper-class men. The position of the incoming Freshman is very differ- ent. He soon knows an instructor whom he can respect for his humanity as well as for his learning. This same instructor, moreover, friendly, accessible, will talk to him as man to man, about his work, his friends, the latest play. The upper-class man whom he runs into pretty regularly will introduce him to others of his own kind, will make him feel his responsibility to the college and the obUgation of doing something for the college. He wants the respect of these men, and soon learns that he can not have it if he is selfish, or a loafer, or a sport. To get drunk does not appear, after all, such a praiseworthy achievement. Even to be seen on the street corner talk- ing to a chorus girl does not have quite the manly charm he supposed it would have. Instead, he feels a little ashamed and foolish. He discovers that vice is ungentle- manly and mean, to be hidden for shame, not because it is a secret gloriously bad. After all, he finds the college itself offering inniunerable opportunities for amusement. Days of work faithfully done, athletics or debating that bring approbation from his fellows, occasional evenings at the theater with pleas- ant companions, — all those things, applauded or ap- preciated by his classmates and his older friends, are more satisfying, more really fun, than are the hours of neglect of work that must be suffered for at examina- tion time, the evil pleasures which can not be lived over The College and the Freshman 325 again in talk, no matter how confidential. He finds his ambition aroused, his interest broadening wisely, his love for the honor of his college expressing itself in a struggle for self-improvement. Finally, from the point of view of the college all this could be more satisfactorily brought about if the aver- age age of admission were lower. Boys of seventeen have, to be sure, less settled characters than boys of nineteen or twenty. It is character more open to both good and bad influences. Yet, undeniably, by the time a boy is seventeen he has reached the age when he needs association with men to bring him out. Undeniably, also, he is more sensitive to the ugliness of vice in all its forms, is less Hkely to be tempted by it, than he would be a couple of years later. He has still shining about him the white light of his mother's purity, and in it he sees shudderingly, not covetously. Under present conditions the younger Fresh- man has to counterbalance this instinct for moral clean- liness, the fancied obligation to be a man, and being a man often means to him follomng in the lead of the worst among his older mates, learning how to misbehave like a street loafer. A tentative reaching out toward this "cursing" man- hood was once amusingly illustrated by a Freshman, who, eating in commons, blushingly asked that some one would "please pass the damn milk." Among boys of his own age, however, this supposed obligation would no longer exist, and, through the protection of older friends, he would be developed from a boy, good by reason of his innocence, to a man, good by reason of his strength. Less susceptible to the attractions of dissolute living, more amenable to good advice — this would seem to be the situation as touching a younger Freshman class. 326 Education Under any system, in any college, there would always be a few to fall by the wayside, a few who would remain soUtary and unapproachable. There would always be a few with inherited bad instincts, boys confirmed in vicious habits before admission; but these would be sent away before they had a chance to pollute others. There would always be some who repelled friendship, intro- spective youths wrapped up in the study of their own personalities. As undergraduates, they are to be pitied, but do no harm. They never expand until later, perhaps, love, revealing one other soul, reveals the world. But for the normal boy, the healthy-minded, noisy Freshman, to whom life presents few problems, few responsibiUties, there would be comparative safety, the impulse to develop along uplifting, self-reliant lines. Parents might then smrender their sons to the college with a feeling of safety, sure that the college would make every effort to fulfill its duty, — not only the duty of edu- cation, but the supreme duty of creating good citizens. ^m s^jj COLLEGE LIFE! By WILLIAM DeWITT HYDE Fkeshman Soebows Bradford College, October 24, 1901. EAR FATHER: — Your letter, with welcome check inclosed, is at hand. I note your ad- vice to "wear the same-sized hat, and keep • sawing wood"; but really I didn't need it, for the Sophs attend to the former and the Profs provide for the latter. No, I am not suffering from "swelled head" yet. You know you wished me to keep up my music. Last week a notice was put up on the bulletin board, inviting all candidates for the College Glee Club to appear at a certain room, at nine o'clock Saturday evening. Among the candidates who came were two other Freshmen and myself. They told us that we must all put on dress suits, as personal appearance was a large element in fitness for the position. As I did not have any, they lent me one, or rather parts of two, — waistcoat and trousers that were far too small, and a coat that was miles too big. Then they had us come in and make bows, and show how we would lead in a prima donna. Then they had us stand on our heels and sing low notes; stand on tiptoes and sing high notes; sing everything we knew from comic songs to the doxology in long meter; and finally, about half past eleven, dismissed us with the statement that the other two were the better singers, ' From "The College Man and the College Woman." Houghton, Mifflin & Company. Copyright, 1906. 327 328 Education but that my presence and personal appearance were greatly in my favor, and that the decision would be announced on the bulletin-board the next morning. We had not been out of the room two minutes before we recognized that we had been awfully "taken in." I did not sleep much that night; and whenever I fell into a doze, the vision of that bulletin board would dance before my eyes and wake me up. If ever I wished I was dead and buried, I did that night. It seemed as if I could never get up and go to breakfast, where they would all be talking about it, and walk into chapel with every- body knowing what a fool I had made of myself the night before. It made me wish I either had taken my dose of this sort of thing three years ago at a fitting school, or else had gone to one of the great universities, where a fellow can be simply a imit in the vast whole, of whom nobody takes the slightest notice. But you always said that the small colleges have a great advantage over the large ones, in the fact that here the individual is made to be somebody, and take the conse- quences of his own action upon his own head. Well, I have made an ass of myself to begin with; and everybody knows it and is guying me about it. But I am getting used to it, and don't mind it as much as I did. I have had a good many calls by way of congratulation on my election to the Glee Club; and as these were the first calls of persons I had not had the privilege of knowing before, it seemed appropriate (and I was informed that it was an established college custom) that I should treat. I think that by taking the thing good-naturedly, and entertaining my guests handsomely, I have made more friends than I have lost. Yoiu' affectionate son, Clarence Mansfield. College Life 329 Bkadford College, November 6, 1901. My dear Mother: — You say you are "afraid I am homesick," for I write all "about things at home and nothing about things here." Well, I have been just a bit homesick, but I am getting bravely over it. This time I wiU try to tell you the things you want to know. You needn't worry about my clothes; they are all right. I tore a three-cornered hole in my trousers the other day; but I fixed it up first-rate. I tried one of those fine needles to begin with; but it was no use. So I fished out a darning needle, got some black linen thread, and went at it. I took the thread double and twisted, left a long end at the beginning; sewed it over and over, as you call it, taking stitches about a quarter of an incb apart, fetched back the end next to the needle to the long end I left at the beginning, and tied them together. Some Sophs made great fun of it; wanted to know if I was trying to demonstrate the pons asinorum on my trousers' leg. That night I ripped up the whole seam, or whatever you call it, I had made, turned the trousers wrong side out; proceeded as before, except that I took stitches only half as big; tied the ends on the inside where they don't show; and the trousers look as good as ever. You ask particularly about my religious life. I don't know what to say. The first morning I went to chapel, some one who seemed to be the usher asked me if I would like to rent a sitting. I was fool enough to give him a dollar for a seat; and then he ushered me into a pew at one side near the front which is reserved for the Faculty. I tell you I did n't feel much like praying that morning. The first really familiar and homelike thing I found when I came here was the Y. M. C. A. reception to the Freshmen. A large number of the students and several 330 Education of the Faculty were present. There were a few addresses of an informal nature by the professors. Then we sang hymns, and refreshments were served. I got acquainted with three of the professors, to one of whom I recite; and the whole affair went a long way toward making me feel at home here. As for the meetings: well, I go to them regularly. I can not say I altogether enjoy them. Some of the fellows have such wonderful experiences of grace, that I don't know what to make of it. I never had anything of the kind. If that is essential to a man's being a Christian — why, I simply am not in it. I can't conceive of myself as feeling like that. I don't see the sense of it. It does n't seem natural. I want to do right. I know I do wrong, — I know I need to be turned right about face once in so often, or else I should go straight down hill. And I am glad to spend an hour each week with the fellows who are trying to get a brace in the same direction. To tell the truth, I don't get much out of church here. The ministers are smart enough, and they roll out great glowing periods. But when they are through I can not tell for the Ufe of me what they have been driving at. You hear a lot about justification, sanctification, and atone- ment; and then you hear a lot about Phrygia, Pamphylia, and Mesopotamia. Once in a while there comes along a man who seems to understand us. He will throw out some practical and moral problem that we are grappUng with, pile up the argtunents in favor of the indulgence just as they pile up in our own minds; and then tm'n around, knock them all to splinters, and show how much more noble and manly it is to overcome temptation; and show us Christ as the great champion in the moral and spiritual warfare of the world. It is a good deal harder to be a Christian here in college College Life 331 than it was at home, and the things that ought to be a help seem to be a hindrance. I expect to have rather a sorry time of it here for a while; but by far the greatest of my sorrows is that I have not been more faithfully, Your dutiful and grateful boy, Clarence Mansfield. Bradford College, May 30, 1902. Dear Helen: — I wonder if time flies as swiftly with you Willoughby College girls as with us? It seems but yesterday that we were gliding along together to the music of the merry sleigh bells over the glistening snow. Of com-se you have your good times there. Your after- noon teas tendered by Sophomores to Freshmen; your debates in the gymnasium on municipal suffrage for women; your Halloween frolics; your basket-ball contests; your boat-races rowed for form only; your midnight lunches interrupted by "the Pestilence that walketh in darkness" — that nickname of yours for a meddlesome Prof beats the record — are all very delightful as por- trayed in your charming letters; but compared with football and baseball, boxing and fencing, rushes and tugs- of-war, turkey suppers on the Faculty table with any one of three parties, the owner of the turkeys, the college authorities, or the upper-classmen, liable to swoop down on you at any moment and gobble up the feast, I must confess that your worst dissipations seem a little tame. I have no doubt, however, that you make up in study what is lacking in sport. I have n't seen anybody here quite so completely carried away with Sophocles, or so in love with the Odes of Horace, or so fascinated with German syntax as you seem to be. Your lamentations over spherical trigonometry, however, would evoke many 332 Education a responsive moan. That was really credible from a college man's point of view; but if I were not so sure of yoiu" thorough genuineness and sincerity, I should set down those raptxu-es about philologies and trilogies either to satire or to affectation. We men are not taken that way. I am glad you like them, though. To see a little gleam of sense, real or imaginary, through the intermi- nable technical jargon a fellow has to grind out, must be a reUef. I am heartily glad for you if the gods have granted you such a special dispensation. I must confess, though, that I am beginning to get a real hold of Greek. Professor Bird has us read the whole of an author in translation; write essays on the times, characters, customs, and institutions; and then read in the original such passages as are specially significant in throwing Ught on the main characters and events. We get the life first in this way, and the letters afterward as the expression of that life. Then, too, he shows pictures of Greek architecture and art with the stereopticon in the evening; tells us the story of the statues of which we have casts in the Art Building, and of the coins and vases in the cases there. Life is interesting in all its forms; and it is slowly dawning upon me that these old fellows lived about the gayest, freest, loveUest life men ever Hved on earth. But from the way Greek was ground out in the high school one would never have dreamed the old dry roots once had such sweet juice in them. And some of the other languages here are taught by young fellows fresh from German, or German-American, institutions, who regard the text, even of Horace or Goethe or MoUere, as just so much grammatical straw to thrash the syntax out of. When I see what Greek is, and what the other languages and Uteratures might be if only we had a man and not a thesis College Life 333 in cap and gown to teach them, it makes me mad. And yet you girls fall down and worship just that sort of a creature! Boys and girls make very different kinds of students. I think we get along better apart than together. You are docile, conscientious, and at least outwardly courteous. You eat whatever is set before you, asking no questions for conscience's sake. You study just as hard whether you Uke a subject or not. You do your best every time. Now that is very sweet and lovely. But I should think it would spoil your teachers to treat them that way. With us it is different. If we don't Uke a thing, we say so. As for these fellows that try to cram their old phi- lology down our throats, we make their existence pretty uncomfortable. The other day the Latin tutor asked a fellow the gender of ovum, and he answered, "You can't tell until it 's hatched. " They won't teach us anything we want to know, and so we won't learn anything they want to teach. We keep asking the same old question over and over again; and make him explain the simplest of all his favorite fine distinctions every time it occvu-s. Well, I must stop somewhere. I really did not know I was so interested in my studies, or had so many theories of education. You always understand me better than anybody else does. When I began this letter, I did n't think I cared much about these things anyway. But you are so in earnest about them, that I believe I have caught the inspiration. I am a many-sided being; some sides are good and some are bad; some are wise and some are very foohsh. You always bring out the best side; and for fear of deceiving you and making you think I am better than I really am, I have to let you inside, and show you just how foolish and light-minded I am. 334 Education If I always had you to talk to, I think I should be a very much more diligent student than I am. Not that I crave coeducation. Oh, no! What Emer- son says of friendship is especially true of the friendship of college boys and girls: "The condition which high friendship demands is abiUty to do without it. There must be very two before there can be very one. Let us buy our entrance to this guild by a long probation." I wish you would read the whole essay. I am immensely fond of it; and I always think of you when I read it. The two writers I love best are Carlyle and Emerson; although I don't profess to understand much of either of them. Carlyle braces me up when I am tempted to loaf and shirk. Emerson tones me down when I am tempted to pretense and insincerity. Both tend to make me more simple and true and real — more Uke what you are, and what I fondly fancy you would Uke to have me be. Your faithful friend, Claeence Mansfield. Sophomore Cojiceit Bradford College, October 25, 1902. Dear Father: — Now that it is all over, I suppose I may as well tell you about it. Perhaps you saw in the "Herald" that we came near having a class rebellion here yesterday. Two or three of us ventured to wear into Professor Bird's recitation room the other morning some vestiges of the attire which had done duty in a parade the previous evening. Professor Bird said that if we wished to make fools of ourselves on the pubUc streets he, as an individual, An Art Criticism College Life 335 had nothing to say about it; but that when it came to bringing such nonsense into his recitation room he would not stand it, and we might leave the room at once. Immediately after recitation the class held a rousing indignation meeting in Old College Hall, and passed the following resolutions: "That we, the members of the Class of 1905, most emphatically and indignantly pro- test against this act of tyranny and usurpation; and that we will attend no more college exercises until this wrong shall be redressed. " As I was one of the persons especially aggrieved I was made chairman of a committee of three, which was appointed to wait upon the president and present our resolutions. He hstened very respectfully to our representations. When we had finished he said that there seemed to be a hopeless division of opinion on the subject, — the faculty being firmly and finally committed to the position taken by Professor Bird, and the class being equally tenacious of the position taken in the resolutions. Accordingly, he proposed that we should refer the whole subject to a committee of three alumni, of whom the class should name one, the president should name one, and the two thus appointed should name the third. The class, after some discussion, voted to accept the president's proposition; and we appointed as our rep- resentative on this committee a young graduate of the previous year who had been a leader in all manner of deviltry while he was in college, and is hanging around the college this year as a self-appointed coach of the football team until he can find something to do. We went back and reported that we had accepted his propo- sition, and named our referee. The president then gravely announced that he had selected you as his repre- 336 Education sentative on the committee to which the matter should be referred; that he would telegraph for you at once; and that he should expect me and the others interested to appear before the committee in the precise apparel which had been the occasion of the controversy. You can imagine that I was a good deal taken back. I did not relish having you called down here from your business, two hundred miles, to sit in judgment on that question. I thought I could anticipate the decision and the manner in which it would be delivered. So I per- suaded the class to drop the matter, and we have resumed attendance at recitations. I give you the full accoimt. This is all there is in it. The reporters got hold of it and have written it up with a great deal of exaggeration and embellishment. So if you read my name or see my photograph in coimection with the instigation of a great rebeUion, don't be dis- turbed, and tell mother not to worry. Your affectionate son, Clarence. Bradford College, November 30, 1902. My dear Helen : — The football season is over, and I must tell you about it. As you know, we won the championship ; and I happened to play quite an important part in it. The opposing team was made up of great giants from the farms; while our team were mostly hght city boys, quick as Ughtning, and up to aU the tricks and fine points. Their game was to mass themselves on one weak point in the line, and pound away at that time after time. In spite of all that we could do they would gain a few feet each time; and it looked as though they would win by steadily shoving us inch by inch down the field. College Life 337 When they had it almost over, we made a great brace and held them and got the ball. Then we made a long gain, bringing the ball within forty yards of their goal. The time was nearly up; and if we had lost it again, the game would have been either a tie or a defeat. As a last resort, the signal was given for a goal from the field. The ball was passed to me: I had just time for a drop kick in the general direction of the goal, without an instant for taking aim, when their biggest man came down on me; and that was the last I can remember. As all my force had gone into the kick, and I was standing still and had almost lost my balance in the act of kicking; while he weighed seventy pounds more than I, and was coming at full speed, you can imagine that I went down with a good deal of force on to the frozen ground. The next thing I knew I was in my room, and the doctor was working over me. To my first question, "Was it a goal?" the captain replied, "Yes, old man, you won the game for us." My injury proved to be nothing serious; and a few stitches in a scalp wound was all the medical treatment necessary. By the way, don't mention this part of the affair around home, where the folks will be likely to hear of it. They would worry, and that would do no good. I was at some loss how to charge up the doctor's bill on my cash account; but in view of the stitches, I charged it to "sewing." I am just having a glorious time of it this year. There are lots of fooHsh girls here, as there are everywhere; and I don't see why a fellow should not have some fun with them. My football prowess has opened the doors of all the best society to me; and I am lionized wherever I go. I can take my pick of the girls; and I get along with them first-rate. They talk football as soon as they 338 Education are introduced; and that is a subject on which I feel perfectly at home. There are half a dozen on whom I have made a perfect mash; and perhaps I ought to con- fess that there is one in particular toward whom I am inchned to reciprocate. She is a Uttle older than I (some of the fellows who are jealous of me call her the college widow), but with shrugging of her shoulders and elevat- ing her eyes when one makes a particularly piquant re- mark, she is young enough in her manner. We led the dance the other evening, and it was great fun to see the fellows green with envy, and the longing looks of more than one girl whose eyes as much as said, "Oh, if I were only where that girl is. " I was considerably amused at the account you gave of your harmless serenade under the windows of the obstreperous Miss K.; but I was disgusted at the spec- imen of petticoat government that followed. How perfectly absurd to scold a set of such innocent and guileless creatures, who never entertained so much as a shadow of a naughty thought in all jour Uves! Our dean would n't have made such a fuss over a little thing Mke that. Let me tell you what happened here the other night. We have an instructor whom we hate. I don't know just why. He is a wooden feUow. He tries to apply high-school methods of discipUne and in- struction to college men! Just think of it! We don't propose to stand it. So we "fixed" his recitation room the other night, and among other things propped up the skeleton from the Medical School in his chair, and put between his teeth strips of paper on which the instructor's oft-recurring phrases were inscribed. I was in it. The dean got on to it, and I was summoned to his office. I expected I should catch it, and was making arrangements to leave town on an early train. College Life 339 The dean, however, did not refer to the affair once. He said that he was afraid that I was not giving to my studies the undivided attention that they deserved and asked what was the trouble. We talked over my plans and purposes in so far as I have any; and then he tried to show me how these studies in general, and the one which is taught in that room in particular, have a vital relation to my whole intellectual future. I never reaUzed before how hard the college is trying, with very scanty resources, to provide for us a satisfactory course, or how interested in our individual welfare the officers of it are. I came away with a very much better under- standing of what I am here for. I had a very pleasant interview, and was almost glad to have had it; though after the tacit understanding to which we came, it would be fearfully embarrassing to have another based on a similar offense. I shall give the college no further trouble along that Une, I assure you. Now, was not this masculine mode of discipline better than yours? Women seem to read their Scriptures to the effect that without shedding of tears there shall be no remission of mischief. We men don't take much stock in tears. And such tear-provoking talk as seems to be so efficacious with you girls would run off from our toughened consciences hke water off a duck's back. Now, my dear Helen, if I seem to hold women in general, and women's ways of doing things, in somewhat Ught esteem, you know I regard you as a shining excep- tion; and think whatever you do is perfect; and know you must have looked perfectly lovely even in those absurd and wasted tears. Faithfully your friend, Clarence Mansfield. 340 Education Bradpobd College, April 8, 1903. My deab Mother: — Tliat is just like you, mother, "to look with more favor on my friendship for Helen than on my passion for Kate, " or the "college widow, " as you hatefully insist on calling her. You are a woman, and you can't see things as I do. Why, Kate just adores me; idolizes me; says that in all the history of the college there never was a fellow quite like me. Now, that is the sort of a girl for me. She makes me feel satisfied with my- self. And she is pretty and fascinating. As for Helen, what do you think she had the imperti- nence to write to me? I had written her a nice letter, in which, to be sure, I made one or two sHghting and patronizing references to women in general and petticoat government for colleges in particular, and this is what I got: "You HORRID, CONCEITED THING: — No, thank you. If you can not respect my sex, and speak respectfully of my college, please pay no more of your silly comphments to a 'shining exception.' "P. S. If in addition to the fact of feminine foolish- ness, of which you are so well assured, you wish to con- tinue your studies into the philosophy of the phenomenon, and, in spite of her being a woman, will for once consult the world's greatest noveUst (perhaps you can bring yourself to it, in view of her masculine pseudonym), you are most respectfully referred to a remark of Mrs. Poyaer on the subject." Now, you surely don't suppose a college Sophomore is going to stand such talk as that. The remark referred to is, "I 'm not denyin' that women are foolish; God Almighty made 'em to match the men." I have had enough of Helen. What a fellow wants of College Life 341 a girl is some one to reflect with a halo of sympathy and admiration his own views and opinions. He doesn't want to be stirred up and set to thinking. Now, you know I want to please you in everything. But in these matters you must admit that I am a more competent judge of what suits me than anybody else can be for me. I always respected Helen, and do still. But for real solid happiness all to ourselves, give me -Kate every time. So don't worry, mother. It will all come out right in the end, and you will come to see these things as I do. As for the Y. M. C. A. and that sort of thing which you inquire about, to tell the truth I have n't been much lately. Between football and society my time has been pretty well taken up. I beheve in having a good time, and letting everybody else have the same; I beheve in father's version of the Golden Rule, which is, you know, "Do to others as you think they would do to you if they had a chance." I don't see why we should try to cast our hves in the narrow and contracted grooves marked out for us in primitive times, when the world was just emerging from barbarism. I recognize, of course, that hfe, like every game, has its rules, which you must obey if you want to get any fun out of it. But it strikes me that for the rules of life you must go to the men who have studied life from its first beginnings in plant and animal up to its latest develop- ment in the modern man. Mill and Spencer, Huxley and Tyndall, ought to be better authorities on the rules of this game than the ingenious priests who relieved the monotony of exile by drawing up an ideal code and attributing it to Moses; men on whose minds the first principles of the synthetic philosophy had never dawned, and who had no more conception of the conditions which 342 Education evolution has brought about in our day than the man in the moon. Now, I mean to do my best, as soon as I get time, to find out what the rules of life are according to the most approved modern authorities; and then to play the game of life as I do the game of football, fair and hard. I shall never cheat, never shirk, never be afraid. There 's my creed up to date. If there are any other rules delivered by competent authority, and accepted by all players of good standing, I shall obey them too. So don't be anxious about my religious condition. If you don't like my creed, my practice is all right. I have n't done anything I would be ashamed to have you know, except a little foolishness that does n't amount to anything, and is n't worth mentioning. And as long as I honestly try to do as you would have me, I can't go far astray. Your affectionate Clarence. Junior Misgiving Bradford College, October 14, 1903. My dear Mother: — Well, you were right, after all. My affair with Kate is off; and my only regret is that it was ever on. She is a sweet creature, and I am sorry to have caused her pain. But she is light-hearted, and she will soon get over it. She was in love with being in love, in love with the good times I gave her, never in love with me. We never really cared for the same things That whirl of gayety she likes to live in would be fearfully sickening to me if I had to have it long. We were not happy together, unless we were going somewhere, or had College Life 343 some excitement or other on hand. She will not long remain inconsolable. Of course I shall come in for a liberal amount of criticism at the sewing circles and afternoon teas, and the women's club. I know I have done wrong, but I did n't mean to. And really it is n't as bad as it looks. We never were engaged, though people may have thought we were. That I have made the biggest kind of a fool of myself, I must of com-se acknowledge. One thing is sure. I shall have nothing more to do with young ladies. I am going to give my entire atten- tion to my studies. The great economic and social questions that are pressing for solution demand the un- divided attention of every serious man. I am coming to feel more and more as though my mission in life might he in that direction. Once in the thick of the fight for economic justice and social equaUty, I shall have httle time to think of private domestic happiness. I shall never marry. All petty personal pleasures must be cast aside as cumbersome impediments by one who will serve the cause of the poor and the oppressed. You, dear mother, will henceforth be my only feminine confidante and counselor. As for those rehgious matters which seem to be your main concern, I am afraid I can't give you much satis- faction. I have discovered that the rules of the great game of life are not so simple as I at first supposed. I see at last what you mean by your doctrine of self-sacrifice. In baseball we often have to make what we call a sacri- fice hit, which brings in another runner while the batter himself gets put out. Then, too, the question some- times comes up whether to try for a very hard ball, and take ten chances to one of making an error and spoiling your individual record; or only pretend to try and miss 344 Education it, and so save your individual record, at the expense, perhaps, of losing the game. Essentially the same principle comes out in aU our games. In hare and hounds the hares run over the most difficult and devious course they can find, dropping pieces of paper behind them at intervals for scent. Then the hounds come after them on this trail. All goes well as long as the trail is clear and the scent is good. Then we come to a point where all scent stops. Then the lazy shirks sit down and wait, while the energetic fellows strike out in all directions, until one of them finds the trail. He shouts to the others, and they all follow him. Now, this wilhngness to strike out and help find the trail for the rest, instead of sitting down and resting and letting some one else do it, is, I suppose, what you mean by self-sacrifice. Now, I accept all that. But it seems to me that the sacrifices demanded in real life are not stereotyped, cut-and-dried forms of traditional self-denial. Life is just hke the game. Society is all the time being brought up short at places where it is impossible to teU which of several possible courses it is best to pursue. Then we need men who are not afraid to strike out and find a way, where no sure way appears. Then we need men who have the courage to make necessary mistakes. Now, this wilhngness to take on one's seK the risk and responsibiKties of leadership in matters which are still xmcertain seems to me to be the very essence of the heroism modem society requires. If there is any type of men I hate, it is the stupid, timid conservatives, who stand still or tm-n back whenever they come to a novel problem or a hard place, and then boast that they never go astray. Of course they don't. But, on the other hand, they never help anybody to find the way; they are not leaders. College Life 345 Now, I gladly admit that Jesus taught the world once for all the great lesson of this self-devotion of the individual to the service of society. While others had anticipated special aspects and applications of this principle, he made it central and supreme. In doing so he became the Lord and Master of all who are willing to become humble servants of their fellow men. I acknowledge him as my Lord and Master; and that, too, in a much profounder sense than I ever supposed the words could mean. I do not, however, find much of this which I regard as the essence of Christ's teaching and spirit, either in traditional theology or conventional Christianity. Orthodox theol- ogy seems to have been built up around the idea of saving the merely individual soul, while Christ's prime concern was to show men how to lose that selfish sort of soul. In short, I propose to tackle the most pressing problem of the 'present day, that of the just distribution of the products of human toil; and I propose to give my time and talents and to throw away my wealth and position, for the sake of contributing what I can to its solution. That is what, as I conceive it, Jesus would do were He in my place to-day. Now, if leaving all and following Jesus is Christianity, I am and mean to be a Christian. But if you insist on the ecclesiastical definition of the term, then I am not a Christian, and probably never shall be. Whatever I am, I shall always be Your obedient and devoted son, Clarence Mansfield. Beadfoed College, January 26, 1904. My deae Nellie : — So you have made up your mind to go into a college settlement. Well, I congratulate you. Still, I don't quite Uke it. To be sure, it is a 346 Education good thing in itself, but it doesn't seem to me that it is the best thing for you. If I had the disposition of your fate I think I could find something better than that for you. With your gentle, sensitive nature, it has always seemed to me that you were better fitted to make some one man happy and some one home sweet and beau- tiful than to go into the wholesale benevolent business. However, I ought not to find fault, for I am thinking seriously of doing something very much Mke that myself. Instead of trying to relieve here and there a few cases of misery and degradation, as promiscuous charity tries to do, and instead of trying to elevate the tone of this, that, and the other plague spot in the social system, as the settlement does, I mean to strike at the root of the whole evil and try to remove the causes of which all these notorious evils you refer to are the corollaries and effects. In other words, I intend to devote my life to the cause of labor, and to the prosecution of such reforms as may be necessary to secure for labor its just share of the wealth which it produces. I will not weary you with a lengthy accoimt of all the details of my program. In fact, they are not very clear in my own mind yet. I have expected to find myself a lonely and rejected social outcast in consequence of the adoption of these views and devotion to this work. But knowing that you feel the evils of the existing order as keenly as I do, and are to devote your fife to binding up the wounds they cause, as I am to devote mine to finding a substitute for the cruel competition which does the cutting, I feel renewed comfort and confidence and courage in my undertaking. Assured of your sympathy and appreci- ation, I shall not mind what the rest of the world may say. College Life 347 Even if we do not see each other often, our work will be in common for the same great ends. And while I am struggling to secure for the breadwinner a larger portion of the product of his toil, you will be teaching the wife and daughters how to make better use of their increased earnings. I may as well confess that I had begun to cherish the hope of a closer union; but it seems that the call for renunciation of private happiness has come to us both alike, and I suppose we must be content to lose all thought of individual happiness in the consciousness of devotion to a common cause. I can not tell you how great a sup- port even this connection with you is to me. It is so much so that I am sometimes afraid it is the desire to be in sympathy with you, quite as much as my own conse- cration to the cause, that has led me to renounce my opportunity for worldly success and enlist in this crusade in behalf of the poor and the oppressed. Still I shall endeavor to serve the cause for its own sake, for I know no other motive for it would find favor in your eyes. In the earnest hope that I may be found worthy to be your humble coworker in this glorious cause, I am Most sincerely yours, Clarence Mansfield. Bradford College, February 22, 1904. Mt dear Father: — Your question as to what I am going to do when I get through college has set me to thinking. The more I think, the less I am able to answer it. The fact is, I am all stirred up and unsettled. College has raised a thousand questions, and thus far 348 Education seems to have answered none. I am as much, yes, rather more of a Christian than when I came here; but the creed which I accepted then as a matter of course now bristles with interrogation points, to say the least, on every side. So that the ministry is out of the question, even if I were adapted to it. I am not a bookworm, and so I stand no show for teaching. I am not a good debater; I should never do for law. For medicine I have not the slightest taste. I am afraid I never shall be good for anything. Business seems to be the only opening; and yet I don't like to take that as a last resort. One ought to feel drawn toward that, if he is going into it, and not be driven to it like a slave. Besides, I am beginning to question whether there is any chance for an honest man in business nowadays. I have been reading a good deal of socialistic Hterature lately, and I am not sure that they may not be right, and the rest of us all wrong. It does n't seem quite the fair thing that I ^ould be here, living in idleness and compara- tive luxury, with a practical certainty of a competence all my days whether I do any work or not, while millions of my fellow men are toiling for the bare necessities of a miserable subsistence. I can't see why, just because grandfather happened to settle when the town was a wilderness on a farm which included the whole mill privileges of the present city — I reaUy can't see why we should be practically levying an assessment on every poor weaver with a big family of children, and every hard-worked woman with aged parents to support, that works in oiu- mills or lives in our tenements. Then your joining the trust last year was the last straw on the breaking back of my Hngering faith in the College Life 349 present industrial system. If a trust is' n't robbery with both hands, forcing down the wages of the laborer and putting up the price of goods to the consumer, I should like to know what is. Has not the thing a trust aims to accomplish been forbidden by law ever since English law began to be framed ? Have not the legislatures of half our states passed enactments against it ? Is it not denounced on the platform and in the press as the most glaring injustice and iniquity of the present gen- eration ? I know that you are scrupulously honest and upright, and that you would not do anything unless you were first convinced of its justice. But I have come to look at these things in the Ught of abstract principles; and in that light they stand before my mind convicted of injus- tice and condemned to be superseded by more equitable arrangements. Just what that better order is to be, I am not sure. Perhaps I am in the condition of a sociaUstic speaker I went to hear the other night, who, in reply to a demand from the audience for a definite statement of his pro- posed remedies, rephed, "We don't know what we want, but we want it right away, and we want it bad. " Well, I must confess that these notions of mine have not been very clearly thought out . In the meantime I am unsettled, dissatisfied, miserable. And when I try to answer your question about my futxire work, I am made more conscious than ever of my wretched intellectual condition. So you must have patience with my heresies and my uncer- tainties; and perhaps matters will clear up before the time for the final decision comes. Your affectionate son, Clarence Mansfield. 350 Education Senior Prospects Bradford College, January 23, 1905. My dear Father: — I have at last made up my mind what I shall do after graduation, and make haste to tell you first of all. I am going into the mills with you. I shall make manufacturing my business; and what time I can spare from business I shall give to politics. A good stiff course of pohtical economy for the past year and a half has entirely knocked out of me those crude notions about the inherent wickedness of capital, the tyranny of ability, and the sole and exclusive claim of labor to divide among its own hands the entire joint product of the three great agencies. What you told me, too, about your running at a loss during these hard times, has thrown a new light on the matter. I fully appreciate the force of your remark that the problem of industry is not how to divide the spoils, but how to dis- tribute responsibility. I have also gotten over my horror of the trust. I recognize that the increased efficiency of machinery, the cheapening of transportation, the swift transmission of intelligence, the factory system, the massing of popula- tion in cities, the concentration of capital in large corpo- rations with extensive plants and enormous fixed charges, the competition of all relatively imperishable and trans- portable products in one vast world-market, have radically changed the conditions of production and made old- fashioned small-scale production and free competition between petty competitors impossible. No, father; I don't think you are a robber baron, because you have joined the trust. I begin to realize the tremendous pressure a corporation is under when it must pay interest, College Life 351 keep up repairs, and meet fixed charges, and can come much nearer meeting these obligations by producing at a loss than by not producing at all. I see that the cutting of prices below cost by old con- cerns trying to get out of speculative complications, and by new concerns eager to get a footing in the market, makes effective combination an absolute necessity. I see that the trust is simply an effective way of doing what was ineffectively attempted by informal agreements as to trade customs, listings, quotations, and schedules of prices; written agreements hmiting output and fixing prices; the appointment of common agents to market the product, and the hke. I accept the trust as the stage of economic evolution which the world is now com- pelled to enter. So much for business. Now, as to pohtics. You say that if I am going into business I had better let poUtics alone. I can 't agree with you. What you say about the difficulties, discom-agements, and disadvantages of meddling with poUtics I know to be true. But I am not going into it for what I can get out of it, but for what I can put into it. You may be right in saying that I shall find it impossible in the cold, hard world of fact to make all my fine ideals real. Well, if I can't make the ideal real, I can at least do something toward making the real a httle more ideal. Through a corrupt civil service, honeycombed with sinecures and loaded with incompetence; through valu- able franchises, given away, or sold for a song, or bought by bribery; through the sacrifice of efficient municipal administration to the supposed exigencies of national poli- tics; through discriminating legislation, wasteful expendi- ture, and unnecessary taxation; through the universal failure to find a satisfactory method of dealing with the 352 - Education liquor problem, the poor man is squeezed and gouged and plundered by idle officeholders and fat contractors and favored corporations and sleek saloon keepers and bribe-taking bosses and unrighteous rings. I am going into politics to fight these concrete evils. I am not going to try to do the workingman's work for him. I don't believe he really wants anybody to do that. And I am sure that it would be the worst thing that could happen to him if he did. But I am going to try to give him a chance to do this work under fair conditions, and make it impossible for pensioners or politicians, directly or indirectly, to take a penny of his hard earnings from him without giving him a penny's worth of commodities or services in return. And as for trusts and corporations which derive their existence and protection from the state, I propose to do my utmost to enforce on them publicity, and the responsibility that goes therewith. I would have their books open to the best expert accountants the state could employ; and I would have some way of finding out how much of the vast saving in production these enormous aggregations of capital undoubtedly effect goes to the proprietors and how much goes to the community. There, father, you have my program: through business to earn an honest hving for myself, and through pofitics to help every other man to a fair chance to do the same. In these ways my views on the relations of capital and labor have undergone a pretty radical change. I could not tell you the whole story in a letter. But suffice it to say, while I still believe that there are grave defects in the existing industrial system, and beUeve that there are many ways in which it might be improved, I see that such improvement must be a long, slow process of evolution, in which one defect after another must be College Life 353 sloughed off gradually. I see that such a desire to improve the system, and gradually to substitute better features in place of those which now exist, is not incon- sistent with one's working practically under the system as it is. Indeed, I am convinced that the desired improvement must come, not through agitators, who seek to apply abstract principles from without, but through manu- facturers and merchants who understand the present system in its practical internal workings, and are thus able to develop the new out of the old. I believe that my proper place as a reformer is inside, not outside, of the industrial system that is to be reformed. "that is the extent of the socialism there is left in me. At the same time I feel that the strong dose of socialism I have taken during the past year or more has done me good. Unless I had been through this stage of striving to set all things right, I am afraid I should have settled down into the conventional ruts of the mere business man, who is content to make his own little pile in his own way, leaving society to take care of its own affairs. I am glad that my choice of business coincides with your long-cherished wishes: and I hope that you will see that my political purposes are not altogether destitute of justice and sound sense. Your affectionate son, Clarence Mansfield. Bradford College, March 2, 1905. My dear Mother: — You already know, from my letter to father, my final decision about a profession. I am glad it pleases him, and my only regret is that it may not be equally acceptable to you. I know you 354 Education hoped I should be a minister, or at least a doctor or lawyer. I recognize the many attractive things about all these professions, but I do not believe I was cut out for either of them. If you will pardon once more an illustration from your chief abomination, the football field, I can show you how I feel about it. Business and politics seem to me like being actually in the game, plajdng it for all you are worth. The lawyer strikes me as a sort of umpire, to declare and apply the rules in case of fraud or foul play, or the member of the athletic committee who conducts the diplomacy. The doctor strikes me as the fellow who stands along the side lines, ready to bind up the bruised heads and broken limbs. The journalist is the man who takes notes and writes it up afterward. The minister seems like the man who sits on the grand stand and explains the fine plays and errors to the ladies. My heart would not be in any of these things, and consequently I should not do either of them well. The studies of the last part of the course, now that they are elective and one carries them far enough to really get into them, sift men out for the right professions without their knowing when or how it happens. The fellows that take to biology, that are handy with the microtome and the microscope, go on into medicine as a matter of course. The fellows that get waked up in philosophy, and take the problems of the universe upon their shoulders, naturally go into the ministry. The men that take to history and political science are foreordained to law Now, while I have been interested in three or four lines, my only genuine enthusiasm has been economics. Industry and commerce seem to me the basis on which everything else rests. I think that I can do more good as a business man and an active force College Life 355 in politics, with a successful business behind me, than in any other way. The business man and the poUtician seem to me to be dealing with the real things, while the professional men seem to be deahng only with the symbols of things. A man's vocation ought to be the expression of his ideal. My ideal is to be an effective member of the social order that now is, and an efficient promoter of the better social order that is to be. You complain that I do not say much about reUgion nowadays. As I have told you often, religion is not to my mind an external form superimposed upon Ufe from without, but is the informing spirit of life itself. In striving to do with my might the thing my fellow men need most to have done for them, I feel that I am at the same time doing what is most acceptable to God and most conformable to the teaching and example of Jesus Christ. At the same time I have got over that antipathy to religious institutions which I have had for a year or two. I have gone back to the Christian Association here in college; and whether the change is in them or in me I don't know, but I find myself able both to do good and to get good in their meetings. In fact, unless there were some such meeting ground for the expression and culti- vation of our ideals, I don't see how they could be kept from fading out. It is a great help to feel that in spite of the diversity of taste, talent, and vocation, so many earnest fellows are going out into the world as sincere servants of the one God, followers of the one Lord, and workers in the one Spirit. I shall also connect myself actively with the Church. I do not profess to have solved all the problems of the- ology, and fortimately our Church does not require of 356 Education laymen like me subscription to an elaborate creed. I see that the cry "Back to Jesus" in religion is as foolish as the cry "Back to Phidias" in art, or "Back to Homer" in poetry. We can not go back to primitive simplicity and naivete in any department of life. The subsequent develop- ment is part and parcel of our spiritual inheritance, of which it is impossible to divest ourselves. The Church, as the organized, institutional expression of the life of the Spirit of God in the heart of humanity, I accept as a spiritual necessity. And I should no more think of trying to serve God and my fellow men apart from it than I should think of shouldering my individual musket and marching across the fields on my own private account to defend my country against an invading army. Chris- tian kindness, Christian justice. Christian civilization, Christian culture, the Christian family, and above all a Christian mother like you, I believe in and love with all my heart. And now that the Church has come to represent to my mind, ssrmbolically at least, all these most precious and beneficent influences that have entered into the structure of my character and life, I can not do less than freely give my influence and support to the institution from which, indirectly if not directly, I have freely received so much. So, my dear mother, if you will look beneath the out- ward form to the underlying spirit, I hope you will see that after all I am a good deal of a Christian, and mean to be in my own way something of a minister too. Your affectionate son Clarence Mansfield. College Life 357 Bradford College, June 15, 1905. My dearest Nell: — You shouldn't complain that my letters for the past six weeks have been all about you, and nothing about myself. How can a fellow help it, when you have made him the happiest being in the world? Still, if you command I must obey, and begin the story of my poor self where I left off. Let 's see. Where was it? It seems so long ago and so far away that I can scarce recall it. "How soon a smile of God can change the world!" Oh! I remember. The agreement was that you were to quit the role of St. Catherine, and condescend to enter a home instead of a settlement; and I was to abjure the vows of a St. Christopher to right at once all the wrongs of the universe by my own right arm, before entertaining the "thought of tender happiness. " We were two precious fools, were n't we? Yet it was a divine folly after all. Goethe is right in his doctrine of renunciation. If we had not faced fairly the giving up of all this bliss, it would not be half so sweet to us now. And please don't tell me I have "smashed at one blow all your long-cherished ideals of social service." It is not so. The substance of all those social aims of yours is as precious to us both as it ever was, and we will find ways to work them out together. Not one jot or tittle of the loftiest standard you ever set before yourself shall be suffered tojpass away unfulfilled. Your aims and aspirations are not lost, but transformed, aufgehoben, as the Germans say of the chemical constituents of the soil when they are taken up to form the living tissue of plant or animal. There is nothing you ever thought of doing in a settle- ment that we will not do better in our home. We shall 358 Education not give less to the world because we are more ourselves. We shall not be less able to comfort those who sorrow because our own hearts overflow with joy. Because we are rich in each other, we shall not be less generous to all. You shall have all the classes and schools and clubs and meetings you wish; and they will not be the least bit less successful for being in the home of a mill owner in our native city of fifty thousand people, instead of in some neglected quarter of a city ten times as big. Do you know, father is so delighted with what he calls the "recovery of my reason" that he has promised to build a house for us this fall. We will work up the plans together this summer. One feature of it, though, I have fixed on already, which I know you will approve. Our library will be a long room, with a big fireplace on one side and a cozy den at each end, marked off by an arch supported by pillars. These dens we will fit up with our college books and furniture, and make them just as nearly like our college rooms as we can. And then in the long winter evenings we will come out of our dens before the fireplace; and you will be my private tutor, and with your patient tuition I shall perhaps get some good after all out of the Horace and Goethe and Shelley and Browning which you understand and love so well, but which, to tell the truth, I have n't got much out of thus far. Somehow we fellows don't get hold of those things as you do. Is n't it glorious that my examinations come so that I can get off for your class day and commencement! To be sure, I shall probably forget the fine points in political economy and sociology, in which I have been working for honors the past two years. But then, honors or no honors, I have got the good out of them anyway; and what College Life 359 are honors at the end of college compared with love at the beginning of life? I am delighted that you are coming to my commence- ment. My part is a dry, heavy thing, which I don't expect to make interesting to anybody else; but it is intensely interesting to me, for it sums up the inner experience which I have been going through these past four years, and has helped to give me my bearings as I go out into hfe. My subject is, "Naturalness, Selfishness, Self-sacrifice, and Self-realization. " You who have known me as no one else has all these years, you will see what it all means. You catch the idea. First. We set out as nature has formed and tradition has fashioned us; innocent, susceptible, frail. The hard, cruel world comes down upon us, and would crush us under its heavy unintelligible weight. Second. We rise up against it, defy tradition and throw convention to the winds. We in turn strive to trample others under foot. But though we wear spiked shoes, we find the pricks we kick against harder and sharper than our spikes. Third. We surrender, abjectly and unconditionally; cast spear and shield away in the extreme of formal, abstract self-denial and ascetic, egotistical self-sacrifice. This in turn betrays its hoUowness and emptiness and uselessless and unreality. Fourth. The Lord of life, against whom we 've been blindly fighting all the while, lifts us up in His strong arms; sets us about the concrete duties of our station; arms us with the strength of definite human duties, and cheers us with the warmth of individual human love; and sends us forth to the social service which to hearts thus fortified is perfect freedom and perennial delight. Such a process of spiritual transformation I take to be 360 Education the true significance of a college course. To be sure, in college, as in the great world of which it is a part, none see the meaning of the earlier phases until they reach the later; and consequently many never see any sense in it at all; for the great majority of men go through college, as the great majority go through life, without getting beyond the first or second stage, and graduate as Matthew Arnold says most men die, "Unfreed, having seen nothing, still unblest." There, Nell, have n't I been as egoistic this time as your altruistic highness could desire? Your devoted lover, CiiABENCE Mansfield. WHAT IS A COLLEGE FOR?^ By WOODROW WILSON >HY should a man send his son to college when school is finished; or why should he advise any youngster in whom he is inter- ested to go to college? What does he expect and desire him to get there? The question might be carried back and asked with regard to the higher schools also, to which lads resort for preparation for college. What are they meant to get there? But it will suffice to center the question on the college. What should a lad go to college for, — for work, for the realization of a definite aim, for discipline and a severe training of his faculties, or for relaxation, for the release and exercise of his social powers, for the broadening eflPects of life in a sort of miniature world in which study is only one among many interests? That is not the only alternative suggested by recent discussions. They also suggest a sharp alternative with regard to the character of the study the college student should undertake. Should he seek at college a general discipline of his faculties, a general awakening to the issues and interests of the modern world, or should he, rather, seek specially and definitely to prepare himself for the work he expects to do after he leaves college, for his support and advancement in the world? The two alternatives are very different. The one asks whether the lad does not get as good a preparation for modern life by being manager of a football team, with a > By permission of the Author and " Scribner's Monthly." Copyright, 1909. 361 362 Education complicated program of intercollegiate games and trips away from home, as by becoming proficient in mathe- matics or in history and mastering the abstract tasks of the mind; the other asks whether he is not better prepared by being given the special skill and training of a particular calling or profession, an immediate drill in the work he is to do after he graduates, than by being made a master of his own mind in the more general fields of knowledge, to which his subsequent calling will be related, in all probability, only as every undertaking is related to the general thought and experience of the world. "Learning" is not involved. No one has ever dreamed of imparting learning to vmdergraduates. It can not be done in four years. To become a man of learning is the enterprise of a lifetime. The issue does not rise to that high groimd. The question is merely this: Do we wish college to be, first of all and chiefly, a place of mental dis- cipUne, or only a school of general experience? and, if we wish it to be a place of mental discipline, of what sort do we wish the discipline to be, — a general awakening and release of the faculties, or a preliminary initiation into the drill of a particular vocation? These are questions which go to the root of the matter. They admit of no simple and confident answer. Their roots spring out of life and all its varied sources. To reply to them, therefore, involves an examination of modern life and an assessment of the part an educated man ought to play in it, — an analysis which no man may attempt with perfect self-confidence. The life of our day is a very complex thing which no man can pretend to comprehend in its entirety. But some things are obvious enough concerning it. There is an uncommon challenge to effort in the modern world, and all the achievements to which it challenges are What is a College for? 363 uncommonly difficult. Individuals are yoked together in modern enterprise by a harness which is both new and inelastic. The man who understands only some single process, some single piece of work which he has been set to do, will never do anything else, and is apt to be de- prived at almost any moment of the opportunity to do even that, because processes change, industry undergoes instant revolutions. New inventions, fresh discoveries, alterations in the markets of the world throw accustomed methods and the men who are accustomed to them out of date and use without pause or pity. The man of special skill may be changed into an un- skilled laborer over night. Moreover, it is a day in which no enterprise stands alone or independent, but is related to every other and feels changes in all parts of the globe. The men with mere skill, with mere technical knowledge, will be mere servants perpetually, and may at any time become useless servants, their skill gone out of use and fashion. The particular thing they do may become un- necessary or may be so changed that they can not com- prehend or adjust themselves to the change. These, then, are the things the modern world must have in its trained men, and I do not know where else it is to get them if not from its educated men and the occasional self-developed genius of an exceptional man here and there. It needs, at the top, not a few, but many men with the power to organize and guide. The college is meant to stimulate in a considerable number of men what would be stimulated in only a few if we were to depend entirely upon nature. and circum- stance. Below the ranks of generalship and guidance the modern world needs for the execution of its varied and difficult business a very much larger number of men with great capacity and readiness for the rapid and con- 364 Education centrated exertion of a whole series of faculties: planning faculties as well as technical skill, the ability to handle men as well as to handle tools and correct processes, faculties of adjustment and adaptation as well as of precise execution, — men of resource as well as of knowledge. These are the athletes, the athletes of faculty, of which our generation most stands in need. All through its ranks, besides, it needs masterful men who can acquire a working knowledge of many things readily, quickly, intelligently, and with exactness, — things they had not foreseen or prepared themselves for beforehand, and for which they could not have prepared themselves before- hand. Quick apprehension, quick comprehension, quick action are what modern Ufe puts a premium upon, — a. readiness to turn this way or that and not lose force or momentum. To me, then, the question seems to be, Shall the lad who goes to college go there for the purpose of getting ready to be a servant merely, a servant who will be nobody and who may become useless, or shall he go there for the purpose of getting ready to be a master adventurer in the field of modern opportunity? We must expect hewers of wood and drawers of water to come out of the colleges in their due proportion, of course, but I take it for granted that even the least gifted of them did not go to college with the ambition to be nothing more. And yet one has hardly made the state- ment before he begins to doubt whether he can safely take anything for granted. Part of the very question we are discussing is the am- bition with which young men now go to college. It is a day when a college course has become fashionable, — but not for the purpose of learning, not for the purpose of obtaining a definite preparation for anything, — no such What is a College for? 365 purpose could become fashionable. The clientage of our colleges has greatly changed since the time when most of the young men who resorted to them did so with a view to entering one or other of the learned professions. Young men who expect to go into business of one kind or another now outnumber among our undergraduates those who expect to make some sort of learning the basis of their work throughout life; and I dare say that they generally go to college without having made any very definite analy- sis of their aim and purpose in going. Their parents seem to have made as little. The enormous increase of wealth in the country in recent years, too, has had its effect upon the colleges, — not in the way that might have been expected, — not, as yet, by changing the standard of life to any very notice- able extent or introducing luxury and extravagance and vicious indulgence. College undergraduates have usually the freshness of youth about them, out of which there springs a wholesome simplicity, and it is not easy to spoil them or to destroy their natural democracy. They make a life of their own and insist upon the maintenance of its standards. But the increase of wealth has brought into the colleges, in rapidly augmenting numbers, the sons of very rich men, and lads who expect to inherit wealth are not so easily stimulated to effort, are not so apt to form definite and serious purposes, as those who know that they must whet their wits for the struggle of fife. There was a time when the mere possession of wealth conferred distinction; and when wealth confers distinction it is apt to breed a sort of consciousness of opportunity and responsibility in those who possess it and incline them to seek serious achievement. But that time is long past in America. Wealth is com- 366 Education mon. And, by the same token, the position of the lad who is to inherit it is a peculiarly disadvantageous one, if the standard of success is to rise above mediocrity. Wealth removes the necessity for effort, and yet effort is necessary for the attainment of distinction, and very great effort at that, in the modern world, as I have already pointed out. It would look as if the ordinary lad with, expectations were foredoomed to obscurity; for the ordi- nary lad will not exert himself unless he must. We live in an age in which no achievement is to be cheaply had. All the cheap achievements open to ama- teurs are exhausted and have become commonplace. Adventure, for example, is no longer extraordinary; which is another way of saying that it is commonplace. Any amateur may seek and find adventure; but it has been sought and had in all its kinds. Restless men, idle men, chivalrous men, men drawn on by mere curiosity and men drawn on by love of the knowledge that lies outside books and laboratories, have crossed the whole^face of the habit- able globe in search of it, ferreting it out in corners, even following its bypaths and beating its coverts, and it is nowhere any longer a novelty or distinction to have dis- covered and enjoyed it. The whole round of pleasure, moreover, has been ex- hausted time out of mind, and most of it discredited as not pleasure after all, but just an expensive counterfeit; so that many rich people have been driven to devote them- selves to expense regardless of pleasure. No new pleasure, I am credibly informed, has been invented within the memory of man. For every genuine thrill and satisfac- tion, therefore, we are apparently, in this sophisticated world, shut in to work, to modifying and quickening the life of the age. If college be one of the highways to life and achievement it must be one of the highways to work. What is a College for? 367 The man who comes out of college into the modern world must, therefore, have got out of it, if he has not wasted four vitally significant years of his life, a quicken- ing and a .training which will make him, in some degree, a master among men. If he has got less, college was not worth his while. To have made it worth his while he must have got such a preparation and development of his faculties as will give him movement as well as mere mechanical eflBciency in affairs complex, difficult, and subject to change. The word efficiency has in our day the power to think at the center of it, the power of independent movement and initiative. It is not merely the suitability to be a good tool, it is the power to wield tools, and among the tools are men and circumstances and changing processes of industry, changing phases of hfe itself. There should be technical schools a great many and the technical schools of America should be among the best in the world. The men they train are indispensable. The modern world needs more tools than managers, more workmen than master workmen. But even the technical schools must ha,ve some thought of mastery and adaptability in their processes; and the colleges, which are not technical schools, should think of that chiefly. We must distinguish what the college is for, without disparaging any other school, of any other kind. It is for the training of the men who are to rise above the ranks. That is what a college is for. What it does, what it requires of its undergraduates and of its teachers, should be adjusted to that conception. The very statemenJt of the object, which must be plain to all who make any distinction at all between a college and a technical school, makes it evident that the college must subject its men 368 Education to a general intellectual training which will be narrowed to no one point of view, to no one vocation or calling. It must release and quicken as many faculties of the mind as possible, — and not only release and quicken them but discipline and strengthen them also by putting them to the test of systematic labor. Work, definite, exacting, long continued, but not narrow or petty or merely rule of thumb, must be its law of life for those who would pass its gates and go out with its authentication. By a general training I do not mean vague spaces of study, miscellaneous fields of reading, a varied smattering of a score of subjects and the thorough digestion of none. The field of modem knowledge is extremely wide and varied. After a certain niunber of really fundamental subjects have been studied in the schools, the college undergraduate must be offered a choice of the route he will travel in carrying his studies further. He can not be shown the whole body of knowledge within a single curriculum. There is no longer any single highway of learning. The roads that traverse its vast and crowded spaces are not even parallel, and four years is too short a time in which to search them all out. But there is a general program still possible by which the college student can be made acquainted with the field of modem learning by sample, by which he can be sub- jected to the several kinds of mental discipUne, — in philosophy, in some one of the great sciences, in some one of the great languages which carry the thought of the world, in history and in politics, which is its framework, — which will give him valid naturalization as a citizen of the world of thought, the world of educated men, — and no smatterer merely, able barely to spell it's constitu- tion out, but a man who has really comprehended and made use of its chief intellectual processes and is ready to What is a College for? 369 lay his mind alongside its tasks with some confidence that he can master them and can understand why and how they are to be performed. This is the general training which should be character- istic of the college, and the men who undergo it ought to be made to undergo it with deep seriousness and dihgent labor; not as soft amateurs with whom learning and its thorough tasks are side interests merely, but as those who approach life with the intention of becoming professionals in its fields of achievement. Just now, where this is attempted, it seems to fail of success. College men, it is said, and often said with truth, come out undisciplined, untrained, unfitted for what they are about to undertake. It is argued, therefore, that what they should have been given was special vocational instruc- tion; that if they had had that they would have been interested in their work while they were undergraduates, would have taken it more seriously, and would have come out of college ready to be used, as they now can not be. No doubt that is to be preferred to a scattered and aim- less choice of studies, and no doubt what the colleges offer is miscellaneous and aimless enough in many cases; but, at best, these are very hopeful assumptions on the part of those who would convert our colleges into vocational schools. They are generally put forward by persons who do not know how college life and work are now organized and conducted. I do not wonder that they know little of what has happened. The whole thing is of very recent development, at any rate in its elaborate complexity. It is a growth, as we now see it, of the last ten or twelve years; and even recent graduates of our colleges would rub their eyes incredulously to see it if they were to stand again on the inside and look at it intimately. What has happened is, in general terms, this: that the 370 Education work of the college, the work of its classrooms and labora- tories, has become the merely formal and compulsory side of its life, and that a score of other things, lumped under the term "undergraduate activities," have become the vital, spontaneous, absorbing realities for nine out of every ten men who go to college. These activities embrace social, athletic, dramatic, musical, literary, religious, and professional organizations of every kind, besides many organized for mere amuse- ment and some, of great use and dignity, which seek to exercise a general oversight and sensible direction of college ways and customs. Those which consmne the most time are, of course, the athletic, dramatic, and musical clubs, whose practices, rehearsals, games, and performances fill the term time and the brief vacations alike. But it is the social organizations into which the thought, the energy, the initiative, the enthusiasm of the largest niunber of men go, and go in lavish measiue. The chief of these social organizations are residential families, — fraternities, clubs, groups of housemates of one kind or another, — in which, naturally enough, all the undergraduate interests, all the undergraduate activities of the college have their vital center. The natural history of their origin and development is very interesting. They grew up very normally. They were necessary because of what the college did not do. Every college in T^erica, at any rate every college outside a city, has tried to provide living rooms for its imdergraduates, dormitories in which they can Uve and sleep and do their work outside the classroom and the laboratory. Very few colleges whose numbers have grown rapidly have been able to supply dormitories enough for all their students, and some have deliberately aban- doned the attempt, but in many of them a very consider- What is a College for? 371 able proportion of the undergraduates live on the campus, in college buildings. It is a very wholesome thing that they should live thus under the direct influence of the daily life of such a place and, at least in legal theory, under the authority of the university of which the college forms a principal part. But the connection between the dormitory life and the real Ufe of the university, itg intellectual tasks and dis- ciplines, its outlook upon the greater world of thought and action which lies beyond, far beyond, the boundaries of campus and classroom, is very meager and shadowy indeed. It is hardly more than atmospheric, and the atmosphere is very attenuated, perceptible only by the most sensitive. Formerly, in more primitive, and I must say less desira- ble, days than these in which we have learned the full vigor of freedom, college tutors and proctors lived in the dormi- tories and exercised a precarious authority. The men were looked after in their rooms and made to keep hours and observe rules. But those days are happily gone by. The system failed of its object. The lads were mis- chievous and recalcitrant, those placed in authority over them generally young and unwise; and the rules were odious to those whom they were meant to restrain. There was the atmosphere of the boarding school about the buildings, and of a boarding school whose pupils had outgrown it. Life in college dormitories is much pleas- anter now and much more orderly, because it is free and governed only by college opinion, which is a real,, not a nominal, master. The men come and go as they please and have little consciousness of any connection with authority or with the governing influences of the university in their rooms, except that the university is their landlord and makes rules such as a landlord may make. 372 Education Formerly, in more primitive and less pleasant days, the college provided a refectory or "commons," where all undergraduates had their meals, a noisy family. It was part of the boarding-school life; and the average under- graduate had outgrown it as consciously as he had out- grown the futile discipline of the dormitory. Now nothing of the kind is attempted. Here and there, in con- nection with some large college which has found that the boarding houses and restam-ants of the town have been furnishing poor food at outrageous prices to those of its undergraduates who could not otherwise provide for them- selves, will be found a great "commons," at which hun- dreds of men take their meals, amid the hm-ly-burly of numbers, without elegance or much comfort, but never- theless at a well-spread table where the food is good and the prices moderate. The imdergraduate may use it or not as he pleases. It is merely a great cooperative boarding place, bearing not even a family resemblance to the antique "commons." It is one of the conveniences of the place. It has been provided by the imiversity authori- ties, but it might have been provided in some other way and have been quite independent of them; and it is usually under undergraduate management. Those who do not Uke the associations or the fare of such a place provide for themselves elsewhere, in clubs or otherwise, — generally in fraternity houses. At most colleges there is no such common boarding place, and all must shift for themselves. This necessity in the one case and desire in the other have created the chief com- plexity now observable in college life and have been chiefly instrmnental in bringing about that dissociation of undergraduate life from the deeper and more perma- nent influences of the university which has of recent years become so marked and so significant. What is a College for? 373 Fraternity chapters were once — and that not so very long ago — merely groups of undergraduates who had bound themselves together by the vows of various secret societies which had spread their branches among the colleges. They had their fraternity rooms, their places of meeting; they were distinguished by well-known badges and formed little coteries distinguishable enough from the general body of undergraduates, as they wished to be; but in all ordinary matters they shared the common Ufe of the place. The daily experiences of the college Ufe they shared with their fellows of all kinds and all connections, in an easy democracy; their contacts were the common contacts not only of the classroom and the laboratory, but also of the boarding-house table and of all the usual undergraduate resorts. Members of the same fraternity were naturally enough inclined to associate chiefly with one another, and were often, much too often, inclined, in matters of college "politics," to act as a unit and in their own interest; but they did not live separately. They did not hold aloof or constitute themselves separate families, living apart in their own houses, in privacy. Now all that is changed. Every fraternity has its own house, equipped as a complete home. The fraternity houses will often be the most interesting and the most beautiful buildings a visitor will be shown when he visits the college. In them members take all their meals, in them they spend their leisure hoiu-s and often do their reading, — for each house has its Ubrary, — and in them many of the members, as many as can be accommodated, have their sleeping rooms and live, because the college has not dormitories enough to lodge them or because they prefer lodging outside the dormitories. In colleges where there are no fraternities, clubs of one sort or another take 374 Education their places, build homes of their own, enjoy a similar privacy and separateness, and constitute the center of all that is most comfortable and interesting and attractive in undergraduate life. I am pointing out this interesting and very important development, not for the piupose of criticizing it, but merely to explain its natural history and the far-reaching results it has brought about. The college having deter- mined, wisely enough, some generation or two ago, not to be any longer a boarding school, has resolved itself into a mere teaching machine, with the necessary lecture rooms and laboratories attached and sometimes a few dormi- tories, which it regards as desirable but not indispensable, and has resigned into the hands of the undergraduates themselves the whole management of their life outside the classroom; and not only its management but also the setting up of all its machinery of every kind, — as much as they please, — and the constitution of its whole environ- ment, so that teachers and pupils are not members of one university body but constitute two bodies sharply dis- tinguished, — and the undergraduate body the more highly organized and independent of the two. They parley with one another, but they do not live with one another, and it is much easier for the influence of the highly organized and very self-conscious undergraduate body to penetrate the faculty than it is for the influence of the faculty to permeate the undergraduates. It was inevitable it should turn out so in the circum- stances. I do not wonder that the consequences were not foreseen and that the whole development has crept upon us almost unawares. But the consequences have been very important and very far-reaching. It is easy now to see that if you leave undergraduates entirely to them- selves, to organize their own lives while in college as they What is a College for? 375 please, — and organize it in some way they must if thus cast adrift, — that life, and not the deeper interests of the imiversity, will presently dominate their thoughts, their imaginations, their favorite purposes. And not only that. The work of administering this complex life, with all its organizations and independent interests, successfully absorbs the energies, the initiative, the planning and originating powers of the best men among the undergraduates. It is no small task. It would tax and absorb older men; and only the finer, more spirited, more attractive, more original and effective men are fitted for it or equal to it, where leadership goes by gifts of personality as well as by ability. The very men the teacher most desires to get hold of and to enlist in some enterprise of the mind, the very men it would most rpward him to instruct and whose training would count for most in leadership outside of college, in the country at large, and for the promotion of every interest the nation has, the natural leaders and doers, are drawn off and monopo- lized by these necessary and engaging undergraduate undertakings. The born leaders and managers and originators are drafted off to "run the college" (it is in fact nothing less), and the classroom, the laboratory, the studious conference with instructors get only the residuum of their attention only what can be spared of their energy — are secondary matters where they ought to come first. The organiza- tion is at fault, not the persons who enter into it and are molded by it. It can not turn out otherwise in the circumstances. The side shows are so numerous, so diverting, — so important, if you will, — that they have swallowed up the circus, and those who perform in the main tent must often whistle for their audiences, dis- couraged and humiliated 376 Education Such is college life nowadays, and such its relation to college work and the all-important intellectual interests which the colleges are endowed and maintained to foster. I need not stop to argue that the main purposes of educa- tion can not be successfully realized under such conditions. I need not stop to urge that the college was not and can never be intended for the uses it is now being put to. A young man can learn to become the manager of a football team or of a residential club, the leader of an orchestra or a glee club, the star of amateur theatricals, an oarsman or a chess player, without putting himself to the trouble or his parents to the expense of four years at a college. These are innocent enough things for him to do and to learn, though hardly very important in the long run; they may, for all I know, make for efficiency in some of the simpler kinds of business; and no wise man who knows college lads would propose to shut them off from them or wish to discourage their interest in them. All work and no play not only makes Jack a dull boy but may make him a vicious boy as well. Amusement, athletic games, the zest of contest and competition, the challenge there is in most college activities to the instinct of initiative and the gifts of leadership and achievement, — all these are wholesome means of stimulation, which keep young men from going stale and turning to things that demoralize. But they should not assume the front of the stage where more serious and lasting interests are to be served. Men can not be prepared by them for modem life. The college is meant for a severer, more definite dis- cipline than this: a discipline which will fit men for the contests and achievements of an age whose every task is conditioned upon some intelligent and effective use of the mind, upon some substantial knowledge, some special insight, some trained capacity, some penetration which What is a College for? 377 comes from study, not from natural readiness or mere practical experience. The side shows need not be abolished. They need not be cast out or even discredited. But they must be sub- ordinated. They must be put in their natural place as diversions, and ousted from their present dignity and preeminence as occupations. And this can be done without making of the college again a boarding school. The characteristic of the board- ing school is that its pupils are in all things in tutelage, are under masters at every turn of their life, must do as they are bidden, not in the performance of their set tasks only, but also in all their comings and goings. This char- acteristic made it impossible and undesirable to continue the life of the boarding school into the college, where it is necessary that the pupil should begin to show his manhood and make his own career. No one who knows what wholesome and regulated free- dom can do for young men ought ever to wish to hale them back to the days of childish discipline and restraint of which the college of our grandfathers was typical. But a new discipline is desirable, is absolutely necessary, if the college is to be recalled to its proper purpose, its bounden duty. It can not perform its duty as it is now organized. The fundamental thing to be accomplished in the new organization is, that, instead of being the heterogeneous congeries of petty organizations it now is, instead of being allowed to go to pieces in a score of fractions free to cast off from the whole as they please, it should be drawn to- gether again into a single imiversity family, of which the teachers shall be as natural and as intimate members as the undergraduates. The "life" of the college should not be separated from its chief purposes and most essential objects, should not 378 Education be contrasted with its duties and in rivalry with them. The two should be but two sides of one and the same thing; the association of men, young and old, for serious mental endeavor, and also, in the intervals of work, for every wholesome sport and diversion. Undergraduate life should not be in rivalry and contrast with undergraduate duties ; undergraduates should not be merely in attendance upon the college, but parts of it on every side of its life, very conscious and active parts. They should con- sciously live its whole life, — not under masters, as in school, and yet associated in some intimate daily fashion with their masters in learning: so that learning may not seem one thing and life another. The organizations whose objects lie outside study should be but parts of the whole, not set against it, but included within it. All this can be accompUshed by a comparatively simple change of organization which will make master and pupil members of the same free, self-governed family, upon na,tural terms of intimacy. But how it can be done is not oxu- present interest. I have shown the incompatibility of the present social organization of our colleges with the realization of that purpose only to add emphasis to the statement of what that purpose is. The object of the college is intellectual discipline and moral enlightenment, and it is the immediate task of those who administer the colleges of the country to find the means and the organization by which that object can be attained. Education is a process and, like aU other processes, has its proper means and machinery. It does not consist in courses of study. It consists of the vital assimilation of knowledge, and the mode of life, for the college as for the individual, is nine parts of the digestion. FRAULEIN WENCKEBACH^ By margarethe muller S I look back to the year of my entrance to Wellesley, 1883, and try to recall my first impressions of Fraulein Wenckebach, I find ^ that the picture which presents itself is not that of the teacher, but of the individual. I see her, not on the platform of the classroom, but at the recep- tion given to the Freshman class. The impression is as vivid as if I had received it only yesterday. She wore a light blue brocaded silk dress, plainly made and ill fitting. Across her breast was the heavy gold chain with the Maltese cross pendant which she always wore. Her hair was drawn plainly back from her face and wound in a tight braid about her head. She was standing a little apart from the rest, near the door of the reception room, apparently absorbed in watching the passing crowd. One would have expected the thoughtless tongues of the col- lege students to jest at her unusual appearance, but the simpUcity, the sincerity, and the strength, which even the most careless observer could not fail to see in her face, worked respect at once." This description, given by one of the few students who knew Fraulein Wenckebach intimately, faithfully repro- duces the characteristic impression that her personality made on the college at large. A few little items might have been added, perhaps, to complete the picture, — the occa- sional ripple of joy and fun in the questioning blue eyes, ' From " Caria Wenckebach." Copyright, Ginn and Company, 1908. 379 380 Education and the surprising youthfulness of her appearance, which so often tempted freshmen into extending cheery "hal- loes" of fellowship to the httle professor. "You are a freshman, are n't you?" one of them said to her at this reception, embracing the blue brocade; "come, let's be chummy; I am alone, too!" The professor, with much hilarity, proceeded to do as she was bid, when the fresh- man saw hght and fled. With her youthful looks, and above all with her youth- ful heart, this newcomer was in perfect touch with the "atmosphere of youth and aspiration and high adven- ture" that pervaded the Wellesley world in the "splendid decade of the eighties." "It was not only that we were young," a distinguished alumna writes; "the college was young, too, and so was our president." All these youth- ful spirits were "flushed with the feeUng of power and privilege," and none more so than the sturdy German who after long years of patient and coiu"ageous groping had at last found her way into her earthly paradise. Inspired by the beauty of the task before her, and glorying in its difficulties, Fraulein Wenckebach devel- oped a phenomenal working power. "The amoimt of mental labor she accomplished in these first years," one of her colleagues writes, "was truly astonishing. One could hardly realize that she ever slept." Before two years had passed she had reorganized the Department of German from its foimdation and had filled it with her own vital power. She herself, dm-ing those first years, taught every grade of work, — from the most elementary to "Faust" in the senior year, and in doing so sometimes doubled the niun- ber of teaching hours falling to her share. She published the first of that series of textbooks which were to illus- trate and support the "new methods" in language teach- Fraulein Wenckebach 381 ing recently advocated by Klotzsch and Lehmann, by Victor Pfeil and other German scholars. These methods, which in their essential features have now gained universal approbation, were at that time tabooed by the colleges on account of their alleged un- scholarliness, and they brought down a good deal of paternal as well as hostile criticism on the intrepid pro- fessor of German at Wellesley. But filled with the cour- age of genius, she was not easily put down, and piu-sued the way of the pioneer, knowing that she was marching in the vanguard of progress, and that derision would sooner or later change into approbation. And so it did. Not ten years after her coming to Wellesley the president of a prominent New England college for men proclaimed Fraulein Wenckebach to be one of the most distinguished leaders in her field of work, — the reform of language teaching; at the Colimibian Exposition she was awarded a "Diploma of Honorable Mention" for her textbooks; and wherever progress was allowed to enter the domain of language instruction, the "natural methods" were sweeping away the sterile dregs of medieval tradition. In all her endeavors to build up a model German De- partment, in all her struggles with obdurate secondary schools that were loath to give up the old comfortable routine of translation, the German professor was locally supported by her admired president. Miss Freeman seems to have had implicit faith in Fraulein Wencke- bach's pedagogical genius, and to have recognized that her personality and work were of vital importance to Wellesley's reputation and progress. Ardent in the pursuit of schemes that might serve for the advancement of her beloved college. Miss Freeman soon found ways and means to utilize Fraulein Wencke- 382 Education bach's unusual gifts even outside the German Depart- ment. Courses in the history and science of teaching had recently been introduced in a few colleges. Welles- ley, too, Miss Freeman decreed, must have its courses in pedagogy, and Fraulein Wenckebach must start the new- enterprise. The indefatigable German gladly agreed, on condition that she might thereby be exempted from the dreaded necessity of offering her "voluntary" services in the field of religious instruction. The nucleus of a De- partment of Pedagogy that Fraulein Wenckebach then created soon throbbed, hke the German Department, with the life of a personality that seemed endowed with almost unnatural energy and endurance. "It is madness to slave as you do," her anxious friend and sister Helene wrote to her at this time. "It is a joy to live," responded the indomitable professor of German, instructor in pedagogy, and prolific writer of textbooks. And this new joy of living, felt in the midst of heavy responsibilities, was deep and lasting. "Among all the places I have known, I have never lived so completely as in the freedom here," she said. "The greatest bless- ing that Heaven can bestow on mortal man," she wrote, in 1886, "is to let him find full satisfaction in his daily work. This priceless gift has fallen to my share, and I feel a deep gratitude toward my Creator, who has rescued me out of my Cinderella existence and has brought me into this Elysium. What a splendid, independent, highly respected position I have here; what unlimited possi- bihties for educating myself and for exerting a noble influence on others; what privilege to poiu- into the recep- tive mind of yoimg American girls the fullness of all that is precious about the German spirit; and how enthusias- tically they receive all that I can give them! " Thus the pecuhar problem of her spiritual existence Fraulein Wenckebach 383 was solved at last. She had found the atmosphere into which her personality fitted, in which the self-contained and solitary Ufe of a scholar that she craved was an indispensable condition of the power over others which her nature imperiously demanded. That these "others" appealed to her less in the shape of separate individuals than in the congregate form of classes (preferably large classes) and other collective bodies of individuals was one of the laws of her nature that Wellesley at last made clear to her. She fully understood now why she could never have been satisfied as a governess, private tutor, or writer of books even, and she doubly blessed Fate for granting her those conditions of inner peace that have so little to do with our own moral good will. With feeling Fraulein Wenckebach quoted occasionally: Vor jedem steht ein Bild des was er werden soil, So lang er das nicht hat, ist nicht seia Friede voU. "Every teacher, every educator," Fraulein Wencke- bach once said, "should above all be a guide. Not one of those who, like signposts, stretch their wooden arms with pedantic insistence in a given direction, but one, rather, who, after the manner of the heavenly bodies, diffusing warmth and Ught and cheer, draws the young soul irresistibly to leave its dark jungles of prejudice and ignorance for the promised land of wisdom and freedom. ' ' She herself surely practiced what she preached. "To Fraulein Wenckebach as a teacher," one of her student friends wrote, "I owe more than to any other teacher I have ever had. I can not remember that she reproved any student or that she ever directly urged us to do our best. She made no efforts to make her lec- tures attractive by witticisms, anecdotes, or entertaining illustrations. Yet her students worked with eager faith- 384 Education fulness, and I, personally, have never been so absorbed and inspired by any lectures as by hers. The secret of her power was not merely that she was master of the art of teaching and knew how to arouse interest and awaken the mind to independent thought and inquiry, but that her own earnestness and high purpose touched our lives and made anything less than the highest possible degree of effort and attainment seem not worth while. "She always came into class as if she was glad to see us again, and she never left us without having said some- thing to make one think. I have had light on many problems in life from her words. "She commanded herself, her work, her students. We girls used to say to each other that if we ever taught we should want to be to our students what she was to us, and if they could feel as we felt toward her and her work we should want no more. She demanded the best of us without demanding, and what she gave us was beyond measure. Every atom of that sturdy Uttle body, every flash from those wonderful, glancing eyes, that rested no moment on any face and yet seemed continually to in- clude each of us, every tone of that ringing, compelling voice, was instinct with a genius that lifted instruction into teaching, and teaching to inspiration. It was courses like hers that made us feel that college work was the best part of college life. 'Take German,' we used to say to the under-class girls, 'because you will get so much out of it.' We felt tremendous personal pride and pleasure in the department, it was so real and aUve, so rich, and so full of enlarged thought, suggestion, and resource for us. To any one in the world we could point it out and say, 'This is unexcelled. For here is work which bears its own stamp of excellence past the com- parative.' " Fraulein Wenckebach 385 These testimonies of students may suffice to show what "mere teaching" in Fraulein Wenckebach's case meant to those whom she taught. And what a revela- tion her classroom work meant to many of her colleagues even! When I visited her classes for the first time I was struck not only by the glad earnestness of her manner, the ingenuous simplicity of her teaching, but also by her truly wonderful capacity for adapting her work to her audience. I heard her teach the same subject in two sections, and was astonished to see how ingeniously she varied the treatment so as to suit the different needs. "She does not understand the art of feeling herself into her classes" (sich in ihre Klassen einzufuhlen) , was one of the most serious criticisms that Fraulein Wenckebach could pronounce upon a colleague. That she herself never taught from a pedestal, as it were, seems the more won- derful because of her marked oratorical gifts. These might easily have beguiled her into losing herself and her listeners in a high flood of words. I am not sure that during the first years at Wellesley her fondness for lec- turing did not occasionally get the better of her. For the good of her dear classes, however, she effectively disciplined herself very soon into applying the more difficult but also more educative Socratic methods. Marvelous, too, was the lucidity, the graphic plasticity, of her presentation of involved philosophical and mystical problems. A philosopher of pure breed, to be sure, might have argued that her comparisons and illustrations from the life about her, that her drawings of geometrical fig- ures on the blackboard, could only check deeper philo- sophical thought; but even such critics would have acknowledged that, however much she might appear to "weigh down mind by matter," she at least irresistibly touched the springs of practical ethics in her pupils, and 386 Education forcibly appealed to their spiritual nature. Yet it must not be supposed that she ever sermonized, or that she talked down to her students. Focusing all the rich resources of her nature, all the light she could get from her wide field of reading, on the work she loved, she ap- proached her task of teaching in the manner of a gener- ous host who gladly sees his guests partake of the good gifts wherewith kind Providence has blessed his table. The gifts that Fraulein Wenckebach asked her stu- dents to share with her at their pleasure were generally not her own "original" thoughts, — for she was not, nor did she ever claim to be, an original thinker, — but they were the seeds of intellectual joy and growth which she had gathered from the works of the great of all times. Fraulein Wenckebach's mind to a very large extent fed on books; nevertheless, in her classes she hardly ever made bookish allusions. In books as such she had no interest, nor did she care particularly for the personaK- ties of their writers. What she most wanted for herself and her work were ideas, — ideas that would help her to get Ught and to throw hght on the problems of the great and glorious world; systems of thought by which, intellectually, the fragmentariness of our existence could be removed and the "isolated one be called to universal consecration." Plato, Boehme, Goethe, Hegel, appealed to her through their ideas rather than through what they personally represented; Schiller and Lessing for the same reason were greater favorites with her than Goethe and Shakespeare. This tendency of her natiu-e may explain why she pre- ferred to teach subjects that require an idealistic treat- ment rather than those which presuppose a fine rehsh of individuality; why she did not do her best work in con- nection with Goethe and the more modem writers, for Fraulein Wenckebach 387 instance, but excelled more in the Lessing course, the historical and theoretical courses, and above all in her course on Germanic Mythology. The latter she created for herself, as it were; it was her spiritual home, the happy hunting ground of her own primitive "heroic" instincts, the congenial abiding place of her own mythol- ogizing fancies and feelings. It was not the least of the bits of good fortune strewn in her way that she happened to be in Wellesley just at the time when her genius was bound to be appreciated. Had she come to the college some twenty years later, when all the collateral departments had been so much more developed, she might not have awakened the same glowing and undivided admiration. This general and generous enthusiasm that Fraulein Wenckebach aroused among her students was singularly free from the hysteria which, in the cloistered women's colleges, often pollutes the Parnassus-bom springs of hero worship. Self-centered sentimentality seemed to sneak away, as it were, before her impersonal soul, — before the all-embracing impartiality of her mind and the uni- versal cordiality of her manner. Although in her classes she at times dropped her natural reserve, she so tuned the separateness of her individual experience into har- mony with the universal, that no one but an intimate friend could have detected the personal note in the voice of common humanity that seemed to speak through her. Truly, as a teacher, especially a teacher of youth, Fraulein Wenckebach was unexcelled. There was that relieving and inspiring, that broadening and yet deepen- ing quality in her work, that ease and grace and joy, that mark the work of the elect only, — of those rare souls among us who aie "near the shaping hand of the Creator." THE SCHOOLMISTRESS AND HER OPPORTUNITIES ^ By W. H. maxwell rF a woman must work outside of the home, what work is best for her? My answer is: That work which yields a suflScient income, and which, at the same time, both brings to the worker actual happiness in its performance and is as near in the scale as may be to woman's most important and most satisfying profession — home making and the rearing of citizens. The earning of money is, of course, very important, but money will not buy everything. Social and eco- nomic conditions to-day are such that the average salary wiU purchase but little of what is commonly regarded as luxury. Still less will it of itself buy soul-satisfying happiness. If work, however, is of such a character that its very doing creates happiness, satisfies high ideals, gratifies the ethical longings to be of service to one's fel- lows, and affords an opportunity for constant mental growth, then is the worker fortunate; for she wins a double wage — a stipend of money and a treasiire of personal satisfaction. All men and all women, however, are not alike. To some the higher yearnings are an unfelt mystery. These may find full satisfaction in doing to the best of their ability some humble mechanical task. Others, how- ever, are blessed with greater ambition and imagination, ' By permission of the Author, " The Youth's Companion," and Ginn and Company. Copyright, 1907. 388 The Schoolmistress and Her Opportunities 389 and require for happiness the sense of being directly- helpful in a spiritual as well as material way to those about them. These seek the ministry or medicine, be- come nurse, or work at literature or the arts, in which they can create things beautiful in themselves, a source of hap- piness to their makers, a means of uplift for others. Many, not finding the opportunity in their everyday calling, devote their spare time to satisfying their yearn- ings to do or become something nobler. Many women teach. Now these women, I hold, win a living wage by their work, and in its performance have an opportunity to grow in spiritual and intellectual strength as well as to benefit others. Teaching, how- ever, has one additional advantage — it is nearest of all womanly professions to the profession of the home, and its practice, instead of leading the teacher further from the possibility of successful home making, renders her constantly more capable of managing and training chil- dren of her own. These are the opportunities of the schoolmistress. Now what chance has a young woman to seize these opportunities? What is the demand for teachers, what salary may they earn? How may the profession be entered? In New York City alone, during a single year, nearly one thousand women are appointed to regular teacher- ships in the day, elementary and high schools. If the evening schools and the summer schools and playgrounds are included, the number appointed during the year is well above two thousand. So great has been the demand for teachers in the past that, at times, difficulty in obtaining a sufficient number of persons who possess the preliminary educational re- quirements demanded of applicants, and who also can 390 Education pass the competitive examinations for license, has been experienced. In other cities the demand is in proportion to their population and the rapidity of its growth. Certainly, therefore, there is at present demand enough for com- petent teachers — a demand far greater than exists in any other profession open to women. Moreover, this demand will grow rather than diminish. Immigration and the normal birthrate are adding annu- ally to our population vast numbers of children, and for these children teachers must be provided. The wide adoption of laws for compulsory education and statutes against child labor are increasing the school registers by bringing into school thousands of children who hereto- fore have been child slaves in sweatshops or factories. Moreover, education is rapidly becoming far more extensive. Combes of study are being widened and en- riched; new subjects are being introduced; the number of high schools and high-school students is increasing by leaps and bounds. For these reasons the number of trained teachers required is constantly increasing. The eflBcient teacher will never have diflficulty in obtaining a situation. And what salary may the efficient woman teacher expect to earn? In New York City the woman teacher, on entering elementary school work, receives six hundred dollars a year. This salary is increased for satisfactory service forty dollars each year, until in her seventeenth year of teaching she will receive one thousand two hun- dred and forty dollars. If she teaches boys her salary begins at six hundred and sixty dollars and rises to one thousand three himdred dollars in the same period. Long before she has reached the maximum salary as a regular grade teacher, however, she becomes eligible, The Schoolmistress and Her Opportunities 391 through experience and study, to take examinations for higher-grade positions or the lower supervisory positions which will yield as much as fourteen hundred and forty dollars or sixteen hundred dollars a year. She becomes eligible also in this way to take examinations for a prin- cipalship which will give her an income of twenty-five hundred "dollars. If she begins as a high-school junior teacher, she may start at seven hundred dollars, or if she begins as a reg- ular high-school assistant her first salary is eleven hundred dollars, and this increases eighty dollars each year until she receives nineteen hundred dollars. Meanwhile she may qualify for the tests for a first assistantship, which will pay her finally twenty-five hundred dollars. There are, of course, other positions, such as special teacherships of music, manual training, sewing, cooking, physical training aiid modem languages in elementary schools, the highest salaries for which are, for women, twelve hundred dollars, or fourteen hundred dollars a year after four or five years of service. Kindergarten teachers receive the same salaries as elementary grade teachers who have girls' classes. All these positions which I have mentioned above are to be obtained after the necessary study and experience, as the result of competitive examination. There are, however, other rewards beyond these for unusual brilliancy and ability. Women directors of special branches are paid twenty-five hundred dollars, and the directors of kindergartens receive twenty-seven hundred dollars. Moreover, three of New York City's district superintendents are women, and are paid five thousand dollars a year. The principal of one of the training schools for teachers is a woman, who has a salary of five thousand dollars. 392 Education These salaries, first and last, are, as far as I can judge, mucTi higher than the general run of salaries, lowest and highest, paid to women in business. There are, of course, women in the business world who earn salaries higher than two thousand five himdred dollars, but these cases are rare. The teaching position, in New York City at any rate, has certain other material advantages over those in busi- ness. In the first place, once a teacher has secured her permanent hcense (after three years of continuously suc- cessful service), she holds her position, vmder good be- havior, for life. If she is faithful and able, her salary increases yearly from the minimum until the maximiun is reached. Finally, after long service, she may retire honorably upon a pension of one-half her salary, and so live in peace in her old age. Few business positions, on the other hand, are for life, and fewer still confer a pen- sion ia old age. Moreover, although the strain of the teacher's work while she is in her classroom is indubitably greater than that imposed on a woman in business, it is also true that her actual working hoiu^ are fewer. She teaches from nine o'clock in the morning to three o'clock in the af- ternoon, has her afternoons and all Saturdays and hoUdays at her own disposal, and in addition enjoys a long vacation of eight or ten weeks. The clerk works from nine in the morning, or earlier, until five or six o'clock ia the afternoon six days in the week, and is for- tunate if she recei\es even two weeks of vacation. Now I do not mean that all the teacher's time out of school is her own. If she is a conscientious teacher, she must devote some of it tc, direct preparation for class work, some of it to the correcting of written exercises, and a good deal more of it to general study and self- The Schoolmistress and Her Opportunities 393 improvement. But time so spent certainly contributes to a woman's mental growth and happiness, and is not to be compared in point of value or pleasure with the extra hours the clerk spends at her monotonous employment. Teaching wins for the teacher, however, rewards other than monetary compensation and growth through study and experience. It offers, also, an unequaled opportunity for service to the state and for gratifying high ideals, and offers them through a medium sheltered from the rough contacts of business, and at the same time very near in the nature of its problems aind in the ejtfperience it gives, to the most important of womanly caUings — home making. In the first place, the teacher is charged with the sig- nificant task of preparing the nation's children for intel- ligent adult citizenship. And citizenship means more than the mere right to vote. Citizenship impUes intelli- gence, honesty, self-respect, and self-support, and a dogged adherence, even at personal sacrifice, to what is good and'true. Only in citizenship of this kind are the elements of true patriotism. If in addition to such citizenship the boy or girl may come to maturity with a sound body and an appreciation of the beautiful, he or she certainly may also become, through energy, invalu- able to contemporary society. These are the things the teacher, as direct representa- tives of the state, is employed to foster. Her instruction of the child in the rudiments, in civics, in ethics, in the manual arts, in physical training, her example to him of refined womanliness, all are aimed at one result, to make him a capable citizen. Under her tuition, too, the child is given an opportunity to discover himself, to ascer- tain what his talents are; whether natvire designed him to be a producer, a distributor, or an adviser — a 394 Education worker with the forces of nature, a merchant, or a mem- ber of one of the learned professions. When he finds his true vocation, he becomes immeasurably more valu- able to the state. We hear frequently of young women who sacrifice social Ufe and ease to work in slum settlements, and their action is regarded as especially praiseworthy. There is no question that they are of great service, but their work, to my mind, is not so glorious or so useful either to the child or to the home as is the work of the teacher who, through her pupils, increases the efficiency of society and spreads through a thousand homes the gospel of sweet- ness and light. Teaching, then, offers to the school- mistress these opportimities: to make a hving, to study and grow, to be of service, to gratify ideals, and so to win a deeper contentment, a higher satisfaction, than money can purchase. Nor is this all. The teacher's work ought to be the most valuable preparation for motherhood, should that final reward be reached. The work of the schoolmistress is with children. She must deal with aU sorts and conditions of children — bright and dull, strong and weak, well and ailing. From all she must gain respect, confidence, and love. Over them she must exercise strong, gentle discipline. She must learn to deal successfully with each type of mind. She must acquire the art of effective application of edu- cational methods. Above all, she must herself become possessed of a rich store of information in order to teach others what they should know. These powers, if the teacher ever is glorified into the real mother, will be of intense value in directing her own children's education and in cooperating wisely with their teachers. And the teacher who becomes the wife can The Schoolmistress and Her Opportunities 395 not forget her ambitions and her love for education, and must inevitably in her own home give to all about her strong stimulus to intellectual achievement. These are the opportunities of the teacher. And how is a girl to become a teacher and gain these opportu- nities? In the first place, she must have a clear, logical noind, a strong character, a gentle disposition, and a good physique. In the second place, she must have, even for elementary positions, a good general education, at least equivalent to a four-year standard high-school course. Beyond this she must have had special training for teaching in psychology, logic, history, and principles of education and methods of teaching — such as is given in a two-year normal course or a one-year course in educa- tion in a college. This requirement of professional or special training is now demanded by many cities; and in some states, such as New York, no one may become a teacher without at least thirty-eight weeks of such training, or, in place of it, long experience in teaching elsewhere. New York City requires the full two years of training after high school, or demands of college graduates either the completion of a satisfactory professional course of one year, or three years' experience in teaching elsewhere. For high-school licenses, a collegiate course and either a year of professional study or of experience is demanded as a minimum. The requirements for teachers of special branches and other licenses vary, although in each case professional training is an invaluable asset, which can not in any case be offset by experience. To the girl who contemplates taking up teaching as soon as she finishes her school education, a professional course after high school is of prime importance. Without it, she can not hope to 396 Education enter the better paid public-school positions of a large city. The great value of taking these courses early in life is brought home to me very pointedly nearly every day. Young women forced unexpectedly to earn a living through reversal of the family fortunes come to me seek- ing positions. In many cases they have had fairly good educations here and abroad, but because they have had no professional training they are not eligible even to take the examinations for license. Frequently, as I have dismissed these yoimg women, tearful because of the wise but inflexible law of the state, I have said to myself, "How wise the parents of these young women would have been if they had given them the training which would have enabled them to teach in time of need !" Such a course would have been equivalent to the income from an insurance poUcy of from twenty thousand to eighty thousand dollars, a siun which few fathers are able to leave to each daughter. I know of no wiser course for the father of to-day, whatever his circumstances, than to fit his daughters, if they have the natural abihty for such work, to teach. I fancy that I hear some one say, "But under this system you would give many girls who will never teach courses in education and methods, and so waste their time." The time will not be wasted. I know of no better mental discipline, even for one who is not to apply the knowledge in a classroom, than is afforded by the logic and psychology which are recognized elements of every complete education, and the history and principles of education which will acquaint the student with some of the most valuable philosophy we have, and bring her into toiich with some of the most important civilizing movements. The Schoolmistress and Her Opportunities 397 Nor does it follow that in pursuing these courses the girl must delay the development of her particular apti- tudes. She may have a marked taste for household matters; she can fit herself to teach domestic science. Her talent or interest may be for art, music, physical training, sewing, manual activities; there is need for teachers who have mastered, and who have been trained to teach, these special branches. If she prefer languages or the sciences, the high schools may utilize her gifts. If she is especially fond of the care of little children, the kindergarten is open to her. If she has the gift of caring for the sick and is intelligent, her pecular talents may prove invaluable in the special classes for physically or mentally defective children — a branch of education now in its infancy, but certain of wide extension. But to become ready for any of these opportunities, the girl must have, in addition to general knowledge, the training afforded by a special course in teaching her peculiar subject. Nor are these courses difficult to obtain Many of the colleges and universities now meet the demands of the city school systems. Free normal schools exist in many places. Many art schools, con- servatories of music and physical training schools — I speak, of coiu-se, of the reputable ones — give courses for teachers acceptable to school licensing officers. There is no reason why the father of moderate means can not give his daughter this valuable opportunity — this form of cheap insurance. And my final word is — that the opportunities of the schoolmistress are, indeed, greatly to be desired, and that it is the duty of parents to place these golden opportu- nities for womanly work and true service within the reach of their daughters. EDUCATION SUPPLEMENTARY READINGS Kindergarten Principles and Practice Kate Douglas Wiggin Nora Archibald Smith Vouth : its Education, Regimen, and Hygiene G. Stanley Hall The Teacher George H. Palmer Alice Freeman Palmer Education and the Larger Life C. Hanpord Henderson Grovrth Euid Education John Tyler To Girls Heloise E. Hersey The Trend in Higher Education William Rainey Harper The Voice of the Scholar David Starr Jordan Addresses and Essays Edward Everett Hale Of Education Richard Rogers Bowker The College Man and the Col- lege Woman William DeWitt Hyde The Public-School System in the United States J. M. Rice Teaching a District School John Wirt Dinsmore School, College, and Character LeBaron Russell Bbiggs Educational Reform Charles W. Eliot The Education of Women Marion Talbot Schools at Home and Abroad R. E. Hughes Pestalozzi H. Holman Educational Aims and Methods Sir Joshua Fitch The Education of Man Friedrich Froebel Our Schools : their Administra- tion and Supervision William Esterbrook Chan- cellor The Principles of Education William Carl Ruediger President Garfield and Educa- tion James R. Garfield Talks to Teachers William James Attention and Interest Felix Arnold The Psychological Principles of Education Herman Harrell Horne '.*' .• Hi'fc m" ■^■4l:i: ■■■:-' ■■■:.*'* . : <;• -.ili^ Sil -.Jit V'^S^' "