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FUNDAMENTALS IN EDUCATION, 
 AKT AND CIVICS 
 
"The Orator's Manual." 
 
 "Tlie Writer." 
 
 " Art in Theory." 
 
 "The Representative Significance of 
 Form." 
 
 " Poetry as a Representative Art." 
 
 "Painting, Sculpture and Architec- 
 ture as Representative Arts." 
 
 " The Genesb of Art-Form." 
 
 " Rhythm and Harmony in Poetry 
 and Music." 
 
 " Proportion and Harmony of Line 
 and Color in Paunting, Sculft- 
 1 lure and Architecture." 
 
 " A Life in Song." 
 
 " Ballads aad other Poems." 
 
 " The Aztec God and other Draunas." 
 
 " Dante and Collected Verse." 
 
 " The Essentials of Elsthetics." 
 
 " The Psychology of Inspiration." 
 etc., etc. 
 
FUNDAMENTALS 
 
 IK 
 
 EDUCATION, ART 
 AND CIVICS 
 
 €mipsi anb ^Vbniitsi 
 
 BY 
 
 GEOEGE LANSING EATMOND 
 
 Professor of Oratory, Willio.ms College, 1875-1881; of Oratory and Esthetic 
 
 Criticism, Princeton, 1880-1893 ; of Esthetics, Princeton, 1893-1905 ; 
 
 of Esthetics^ George Washington, 1905-1910 
 
 PUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY 
 
 NEW YOKK AND LONDON 
 
 1911 
 
Copyright, 1911, bt 
 FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY 
 
 (Printed in the United States of America) 
 Published January, 1911 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This volume was first suggested by inquiries for 
 certain material in it which is now virtually out of 
 print. Most of this material was originally pre- 
 pared by request, and presented in various forms, 
 written or oral, at a time when the subjects treated 
 were supposed to be of current interest. Nothing, 
 however, has been included here which may not be 
 considered to have also some present interest, either 
 practical or historic. To most of the contents, in- 
 deed, both these tests might be applied. What is 
 said, for instance, with reference to education and 
 to art not only upholds principles and methods that 
 it is believed that success in these departments must 
 put into practise to the end of time; but, to those 
 who can read between the lines, it will also reveal 
 the particular necessity for upholding the same oc- 
 casioned by theories and tendencies illustrated in 
 certain facts concerning the developments of these 
 departments in our own country during the latter 
 part of the last century. A similar connection may 
 be equally recognized between the mainly historic 
 nature of certain of the subjects, and the never ceas- 
 ing practical importance of the inferences logically 
 deducible from them. 
 
 It is hoped that the reader will consider leniently 
 a few places in which, especially in the educational 
 papers, the same general thought, tho in different 
 connections and with different phraseology, has been 
 repeated. This result could not well be avoided in 
 
6 PREFACE 
 
 papers prepared at intervals separated by many 
 years. Nor can it be corrected now, without inter- 
 fering with the consecutiveness of thought in pas- 
 sages in which the repetition occurs. 
 
 The book is printed in the hope that it may fall 
 into the hands of some resembling those who seem to 
 have thought themselves helped by certain parts of 
 it when they first appeared. 
 
 Geoege L. Eaymond. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Preface 5 
 
 Fundamentals op Education in Academy, College 
 AND University: a plea for College Training 
 Inside or Outside the University ... 9 
 
 Art and Education 35 
 
 Art and Morals 70 
 
 The Artistic versus the Scientific Conception in 
 
 Educational Methods 90 
 
 Teaching in Drawing as Eelated to the Training 
 
 OF the Intellect in General . . . .114 
 
 Music as Belated to the other Arts and to Ar- 
 tistic Culture 131 
 
 The Function of Technic in Expression Illus- 
 trated Through Elocution .... 153 
 
 The Principles op Successful Writing and Speak- 
 ing Fundamentally the Same .... 180 
 
 The Literary Artist as Developed by the Study 
 
 of Elocution 188 
 
 The Need of Elocutionary Training in the Theo- 
 logical Seminary 208 
 
 Art as the Source of Logical Form in Oratory 
 
 AND Poetry 218 
 
 The Lav7S of English Orthography: Susgestions 
 
 for Simplified Spelling 230 
 
8 CONTENTS 
 
 PAOS 
 
 The Mayflower Pilgrims and their Present Rep- 
 resentatives 262 
 
 Individual Character as Developed in Our Re- 
 public 269 
 
 National Probity the Price op National Pros- 
 perity 281 
 
 The Soldier's Testimony to the Spiritual in Life 313 
 
 The City that Vanished and the Citizenship that 
 
 Survived : The Great Fire in Chicago . . 320 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION IN ACAD- 
 EMY, COLLEGE AND UNIVEESITY: A 
 PLEA FOR COLLEGE TRAINING INSIDE 
 OR OUTSIDE THE UNIVEESITY 
 
 The wisest thought of the world is suggested, at 
 least, by that which is most widely thought. The 
 sense that least commonly errs is common sense. 
 This is the principle at the basis of our country's 
 faith in the vote of the majority. The faith is not 
 always justified, because the vote does not always 
 represent thought so much as the unconsidered re- 
 sults of prejudice or persuasion. But, divorced 
 from such influences, the conceptions of ordinary 
 people are likely to be correct. At least, they can 
 be used with profit as clues through which to solve 
 the complexities of by no means ordinary problems. 
 
 Applying this thought to our schools for higher 
 education, which, in a general way, we may class as 
 academies, colleges and universities, we shall find 
 that most people are accustomed to judge of the effi- 
 ciency of the academy by the way in which, as they 
 say, it has prepared its students, — that is, prepared 
 their minds to continue to study; of the college by 
 the way in which it has cultured them; and of the 
 university by the way in which it has stored them. 
 No one expects the ordinary graduate of an academy 
 to be able to think very effectively, or even to be very 
 well informed. But both results are looked for in 
 the college graduate. Not even he, however, is ex- 
 pected to be, in any distinctive sense, a scholar, ex- 
 
10 EDUCATION, ABT. AND CIVICS 
 
 cept by those who do not know him. This distinc- 
 tion is reserved for the university graduate, who is 
 usually credited with being exceptionally proficient 
 in the one branch, at least, in which he has taken his 
 degree. 
 
 Of course, it is impossible to separate practically, 
 as has been done theoretically, the three aims of in- 
 stitutional instruction thus indicated. Some train- 
 ing to think, and some imparting of knowledge must 
 be included in the work of the academy; and some 
 methods distinctive of the academy, or of the univer- 
 sity, must be included in the work of the college. 
 But it is possible in each institution to subordinate 
 that which is secondary and incidental to that which, 
 for it, is primary and essential. No matter how 
 much an academy may have stimulated minds to 
 think, or stored them with information, it has failed, 
 if it have not also prepared them to study to advan- 
 tage. One can go further than this and say that if 
 it have merely prepared them to study, it frequently 
 has done more than, without this, it would have done 
 to secure their ultimate mastery of the powers both 
 of thinking and of accumulating facts. 
 
 What is meant may be illustrated by certain per- 
 sonal experiences of my own, which will be used fur- 
 ther on to illustrate a still more important subject. 
 When I was ten years old, I happened to be sent to a 
 school taught by an Englishman by the name of 
 Ealeigh. He knew how to teach. He lived before 
 the times of the modern Normal School. I began 
 Latin with him. Every afternoon for an hour — to 
 me always the most delightful of the day — he used 
 to drill the whole school together in the paradigms 
 and the laws of syntax, making us repeat them in 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 11 
 
 unison so as to memorize tliem, and then stopping to 
 fire rapid questions at us, like "of a muse?" "to the 
 muses?" "I loved?" "you should have loved?" etc., 
 so as to make us, in the right connections, recall 
 what we had memorized. This man left town, and 
 the next year I went to another school. Its teacher 
 put me into the old "Latin Eeader." After a few 
 days — I have forgotten how many — I asked him why 
 he gave us such short lessons. He seemed not to un- 
 derstand my question. I explained by telling him 
 that I had read through the whole book. He exam- 
 ined me in it, and, at once, put me into Virgil. 
 There I had no difficulty in keeping up with a ma- 
 ture student, making a hurried preparation for col- 
 lege. He actually graduated from it just seven 
 years before I did. I was able to keep up with him 
 not because of precoeiousness, but merely because 
 I had been well instructed. I had no similar experi- 
 ence in Greek; but I did have one in mathematics. 
 An aunt of mine — also not a student of a Normal 
 School — ^happened to be making a long visit at my 
 home when I was trying, with little success, to mas- 
 ter the intricacies of fractions in arithmetic. She 
 recognized a defect in my training. Making me go 
 back, she drilled me, first, in the multiplication table, 
 then in all the processes of computation, every one 
 of which she explained to me, and made me explain, 
 over and over again, to her, thus instructing me in 
 accordance with the workings of a child's mind, 
 which, while it can understand and ought to be made 
 to do so, cannot of itself find and put together the 
 elements needed for a logical whole, as is expected 
 to be done by students in our law-schools when learn- 
 ing the principles of a subject through deducing them 
 
12 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 from cases to which they have been applied. What 
 was the result of my aunt's instruction? That 
 which might be anticipated from the fact that one 
 becomes interested in a subject in the degree in 
 which he has mastered its details, and can himself, 
 therefore, direct and determine its developments. 
 When, later — I may have been fifteen years of age 
 — I got into algebra, it took me exactly three weeks 
 to go through the whole book, working out by myself 
 every problem from cover to cover. Yet no one ever 
 accused me of being a mathematical genius. The in- 
 ference to be drawn from these experiences ought to 
 lie on the surface. Even if instruction in the pre- 
 paratory school were confined — I do not urge that it 
 should be confined — to the training of the mind to 
 remember and recall, — confined to preparing the 
 mind to study effectively in the future, even then, 
 in the sum total of time given to education, there 
 would be, as a fact, not less but more of this time 
 devoted to those forms of mental development for 
 which, as has been said, we should look mainly to the 
 later courses of the college and the university. In 
 addition to this, it should not be overlooked that 
 thorough drill in a preparatory school gives to the 
 mind, when studying, not only in Latin and mathe- 
 matics but in every department, a habit of thinking 
 accurately, which, in any other way, can be acquired 
 only occasionally, and that usually by accident. It 
 is in this, as in other things. Slowness at the start 
 is often the very best means of securing sureness 
 and swiftness at the finish. It takes much longer to 
 build an automobile than a bicycle. But after the 
 first has been prepared for its work, it can go much 
 faster and further. In all education, as in musical, 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 13 
 
 in which everyone recognizes the fact, later pro- 
 ficiency is the result of early practise and patience. 
 The expert in using all the elements of sound began 
 his familiarity with them by being introduced to 
 them, one by one, and over and over again, because 
 he could not elsewise remember them; and the 
 thrill that we get when he masters his forces is the 
 direct result of the drill that he got from those who 
 mastered him when a boy. 
 
 To give a drill that would prepare the student for 
 advanced courses was the recognized work of the 
 academies of fifty years ago. At that time, too, a 
 graduate of any one of them of high standing could 
 enter any one of our foremost colleges without addi- 
 tional or different preparation. But, soon after, a 
 few colleges — ^not, however, without the strongest 
 protests from others, and the most accurate prophe- 
 cies of detriment that have since been verified — be- 
 gan, each on its own initiative, to change and, as it 
 was termed, raise the standard for admission to its 
 Freshman class. One hesitates to say why this was 
 done. The motives were mixed ; but one of them, 
 mentioned by opponents at the time and not denied, 
 was of a nature to justify the belief that whatever 
 wisdom leaves wickedness in some form has entered. 
 The change was attributed not to a general interest 
 in education throughout the country so much as to 
 a special interest in the particular institution which 
 the higher requirements might make prominent. 
 General interest in education would have been satis- 
 fied by raising the quality rather than the quantity 
 of the academic work demanded. But few people 
 can recognize the significance of changes in quality. 
 They need to see quantity. The change in this, 
 
14 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 therefore, was made with the instincts of a business 
 man trying, in some way, to advertise his own wares 
 as superior to those of all others. It was attendant 
 upon the introduction into educational development 
 of the commercialism unfortunately characteristic 
 of so many other phases of our national life. Many 
 Americans may fail to perceive anything wrong in 
 this. The fact is no proof that it is not wrong. It 
 is a proof, merely, of the importance of directing 
 attention to the subject. Everything that has to do 
 with mind or soul is wrong that involves any impov- 
 erishing of others in order to enrich oneself, or any 
 waiving of ideal advantage for all, in order to make 
 real what is termed practical success for a few. 
 
 The results of raising the standards for admission 
 into certain colleges were what had been prophe- 
 sied by many, and should have been foreseen by 
 all. The change at once threw the arrangements 
 for teaching in most of our academies into disorder, 
 obliging not a few of them to do much more work 
 than, with their equipment, they were prepared to 
 do — at least to do thoroughly. The same condition, 
 which is continued in our own time, still obliges large 
 academies that fit for different colleges to have two or 
 three times as many different recitation-exercises as 
 formerly, and, to conduct these rightly, necessitates, 
 frequently, two or three times as many instructors, 
 involving, often, two or three times as much ex- 
 pense. Worse than this ; the additional quantity re- 
 quired by the colleges has, in all but the foremost 
 academies, and in them too, one sometimes fears 
 lessened the quality of the preparation. I am 
 saying now what I know. Year after year, I used 
 to hear Professor 0. M. Fernald of Williams, a thor- 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 15 
 
 oughly competent witness, a graduate of Harvard 
 who was once called to be the head of Phillips Acad- 
 emy, Exeter, speak of the growing superficiality of 
 the teaching in our preparatory schools ; and he as- 
 cribed it to an endeavor to meet the increased re- 
 quirements. Aside, too, from this consideration, it 
 is easy enough to see that if the quantity had 
 been less emphasized, and an effort had been made 
 mainly to raise the quality, we should have escaped 
 in a perfectly normal and satisfactory way, three 
 very serious educational problems that now con- 
 front us, and are not likely soon to be solved. In 
 the first place, by emphasizing quality rather than 
 quantity we should have secured academic thorough- 
 ness ; in the second place, b:' requiring all academies 
 to have reasonably similar curriculums we should 
 have secured economy in the number of teachers em- 
 ployed, and in the money paid them ; and in the third 
 place, by confining academic instruction to essential 
 courses, especially in connection with the improve- 
 ments that have been made in appliances and facili- 
 ties of instruction, we should have kept the same, in 
 certain cases, and have lowered, in other cases, the 
 ages of those entering college, and thus have enabled 
 them to get both a college and a university educa- 
 tion, and yet to enter upon their lifework at a com- 
 paratively early age. 
 
 Now let us pass on and notice what should be 
 done in the college. It has been intimated that the 
 conceptions of ordinary people, especially when un- 
 prejudiced and unpersuaded, are likely to be correct. 
 To apply this suggestion to our present subject, — 
 what are the tests that college students themselves 
 use, and that people influenced by them expect these 
 
16 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 students to use, when judging of one another? In 
 the academy, the tests may be a genial disposition, 
 a strong physique, an accurate and retentive mem- 
 ory; but La college a man may have aU these, and 
 yet, to quote a student- term, may "queer" himself. 
 That which prevents him from being hazed, and gets 
 him elected into clubs, fraternities, and class offices, 
 and even, sometimes, despite physical inferiority, 
 into athletic teams, is the way in which he can use 
 what he has and present it to the recognition of 
 others. If not able to stand these tests, he may have 
 the kindest of dispositions, the most unflinching 
 co^irage, exceptional Imowledge of books, wide expe- 
 rience in travel, and even positive genius ; but it will 
 be months, possibly years, before any of these win 
 for him what may be termed general appreciation. 
 In perfect harmony with the application of the tests 
 thus indicated, we find the majority of the same 
 students who accepted cheerfully, if not enthusias- 
 tically, the drill of the preparatory school, and who, 
 by and by, will become indefatigable readers, if not 
 positive book-worms, in the professional school or 
 university, decidedly opposing, both by sentiment 
 and action, any tendency on the part of a professor 
 or a student to approve of the use of such methods in 
 college. Such students are not wholly wrong. 
 Just at this stage in their educational development, 
 their instincts as well as our reasoning ought to sug- 
 gest to us that they need something different from 
 either of the methods which are thus condemned. 
 
 In the academy, a course, as has been indicated, 
 may be supposed to have been successful, in case it 
 has given a student through experience, a knowl- 
 edge of what the tools of the mind can do, and has 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 17 
 
 sharpened them. In the following stage, in the col- 
 lege, he must learn how and where to use them, how 
 and where to get for his own what awaits in the world 
 about him, and to appropriate this in such a way 
 as really to add to his mental equipment and effec- 
 tiveness. Before he has learned these things, he 
 never can attack successfully the harder problems 
 with which the unknown confronts mature scholar- 
 ship. The world will never read carved on the stony 
 cliffs that rise before him any message of his own 
 signed by any name that the years will not destroy. 
 His tools will break almost before his hands have 
 gathered in sufficient debris from the rocks to bear 
 witness to even his vain attempt. 
 
 That which should be done in the college is differ- 
 ent from that which is supposed to be done in the 
 European university. This fact was fully recog- 
 nized years ago. In a pamphlet printed in Ger- 
 many in 1876 reporting certain speeches made by 
 Americans at a banquet in Stuttgart on the Fourth 
 of July, I find the following language attributed to 
 myself: "No one who knows what a scholar is in 
 any department, imagines that the American college, 
 if judged by its ability to produce one, is a success. 
 In what regards is it a success then? In two re- 
 gards: First, it turns out a man fitted to take an 
 interest in many branches, and to communicate this 
 to others ; fitted, that is, to become an intelligent and 
 helpful citizen. Again, it turns out a man fitted, on 
 account of the glimpses that have been given him in 
 college of the many different avenues opening to in- 
 tellectual effort, to choose wisely that one which, if 
 he intend to become a scholar, he shall begin to pur- 
 sue with thoroughness. This last sentence suggests 
 
18 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 the direction in which our education is mainly defi- 
 cient. The only institutions in America that can be 
 compared with the German universities are our pro- 
 fessional — not universities, but, as we term them, 
 'schools.' A graduate of Harvard University, for 
 instance, must study two or three years longer iu the 
 same institution before he can receive a diploma 
 from the Harvard Law, Medical or Divinity 
 'School.' We need more 'schools' of this de- 
 scription, — 'schools' that shall supplement all the 
 range of studies to which the student is introduced 
 in college, and enable him to master with some de- 
 gree of thoroughness the principles not only of The- 
 ology, Law and Medicine, but also of the Natural 
 Sciences, Philosophy, History, Language, Criticism 
 and the Arts. It is mainly, I think, these latter 
 branches, in addition, of course, to the modem lan- 
 guages that can be studied to better advantage here 
 than at home. ' ' 
 
 This quotation will show that a method of higher 
 education in our country, such as would have de- 
 veloped normally, and not, as it were, artificially, be- 
 cause of disregarding and destroying that which had 
 already been done, was foreseen and outlined at 
 least thirty-four years ago. However, it came from 
 an obscure source. Anything very sensible usually 
 does. The recognized rulers of the world, like the 
 devil whom the scriptures declare to be the prince 
 of it, generally have more will than wisdom. 
 
 The way in which, as a fact, our higher educa- 
 tional system was revolutionized rather than devel- 
 oped is as follows : Our colleges, with the results on 
 academic work that have already been indicated, 
 raised their standards for admission. Then, finding 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 19 
 
 that students in college were a little older tlian they 
 had been under the former standards, and thinking 
 that, on account of their age, irrespective of their 
 acquirements, they should have something corre- 
 sponding to the university privileges of Europe, our 
 educators began to call the colleges universities, 
 which they were not, and, in connection with this, to 
 give instruction according to the methods of the uni- 
 versity for which the students thus instructed were 
 not prepared. Two results followed, both so inevit- 
 able that it is strange that nobody should have fore- 
 seen them. The first was that every college began 
 to thiok that, like a university, it must provide in- 
 struction in all possible branches. To do this, ne- 
 cessitated doubling, and, in some cases, tripling the 
 number of its instructors, and the amount of money 
 needed for their salaries. The other result was that 
 students were deprived of that guidance to sym- 
 metrical and successful intellectual training which 
 in the former college had been afforded by a wholly 
 or partly required course of study. Not one Fresh- 
 man out of ten is fitted to choose wisely the subjects 
 best suited to his educational needs. Yet, in many 
 institutions, he is now allowed to make his own se- 
 lection. Even when the faculty is supposed to ad- 
 vise and direct him in this, a really efficient over- 
 sight on its part is often, owing to a lack of sufficient 
 knowledge of his individual wants, not practicable 
 and, often, when it is so and departments are pre- 
 scribed, he is still allowed his choice of courses in 
 them. In these cases, he usually prefers lecture- 
 courses. As a rule, these require on his part little 
 preparatory study, and, often, no thinking whatever. 
 Nor do they prove of much use in adding to his in- 
 
20 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 formation. To do this, they need to be accompanied, 
 as in a foreign university, by extensive reading and 
 laboratory practise. The resulting superficiality in 
 education is often augmented, too, by allowing cer- 
 tain students to graduate in three rather than in four 
 years. This positively tempts them to spend their 
 time in what is very appropriately termed "cram- 
 ming," i. e., swallowing without digesting, which, 
 translated into terms of mind, means memorizing 
 without reflecting. President J. M. Garfield once 
 said something to the effect that his conception of 
 being in college and getting a college education was 
 to be sitting on one end of a log bench with President 
 Mark Hopkins of Williams College sitting on the 
 other end of it. Where could students, anxious to 
 graduate in three years, find time in their schedules 
 for a course pursued for nine hours a week through- 
 out an entire year such as used to be given by Dr. 
 Hopkins, especially in view of the fact that, prob- 
 ably, his best scholar, at the end of the year, could 
 not have begun to pass as successful an examination 
 in philosophy, which was supposed to be the subject 
 of his course, as a mediocre student of the modern 
 system could pass at the end of six weeks? Never- 
 theless, the pupil of Dr. Hopkins would have been 
 taught to think and, in this sense, have been edu- 
 cated, while the latter would have been taught 
 merely to know what somebody else had been think- 
 ing. 
 
 The same principle can be illustrated from the 
 former as contrasted with the present methods of 
 conducting instruction in other departments. It is 
 especially noticeable in the fact that, in former times, 
 but not now, many essays were read, orations deliv- 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 21 
 
 ered, and debates given in tlie presence of both pro- 
 fessors and students, — all designed to train in 
 ability to think and to present thought. It will not do 
 to answer this by saying that the former system was 
 changed because it was not effective. It is indispu- 
 table that there are no orators to-day that begin to 
 compare with Webster, Beecher, Phillips, and others 
 trained under that system. Nor are there any writ- 
 ers like Emerson, Motley, Holmes, and Hawthorne. 
 Possibly, we do not need them now. Such certainly 
 is the opinion of many advocates of the present sys- 
 tem. At a recent centennial celebration of one of 
 our colleges, a professorial friend of mine was 
 seated next to a scientist. They were listening to 
 a brilliant speech from a prominent clergyman. The 
 scientist was to follow. Before he did so, he made 
 a disparaging remark, indicating that he felt that 
 he should be commended because he could not, and 
 would not, attempt anything resembling what had 
 immediately preceded. My friend in repeating his 
 remark indicated that he also agreed with the scien- 
 tist in this self-commendation. Neither, appar- 
 ently, was able to perceive his own limitations suffi- 
 ciently even to regret them. A few years ago, a 
 well-known writer — I regret to confess it, — a pro- 
 fessor of English, gave me a report of a speech that 
 he had just heard from Dr. Eichard S. Storrs of 
 Brooklyn, and, with an assumption of affected su- 
 periority, criticized the uselessness of that orator's 
 rhetoric. Is it necessary to argue that where such 
 sentiments prevail and are exprest by those who de- 
 sire to make themselves popular, no great efforts 
 will be expended upon the methods of presenting 
 thought; and if so, that no high standards will be 
 
22 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 reached in tlie spheres peculiar to literature, 
 whether of prose or of poetry? You cannot expect 
 art to be manifested in the use of language in any 
 college or country where there is general disparage- 
 ment of endeavors to make language artistic. Dur- 
 ing my Freshman year in Williams College, I can 
 remember heariag repeated by students who made 
 no pretensions to being literary, quite a number of 
 epigrams, metaphors and similes that had been used 
 at public performances by certain oratorical heroes 
 of the last graduating class. No student would re- 
 peat such phrases to-day. There are no such public 
 performances. If there were, few would attend 
 them. If they did, they would hear little above the 
 level of the editorial of the college periodical writ- 
 ten, apparently, during the sleepy hour following 
 dinner. 
 
 Of couse, the excuse given for this lack of interest 
 in style is that, in our age, we are too much inter- 
 ested in substance. But the excuse is disingenu- 
 ous. The peculiarity of the style of Phillips was 
 that he could put more substance, and interesting 
 substance, too, iuto a few sentences than an ordinary 
 man could put into as many pages. The peculiarity 
 of the styles of both Beecher and Phillips was that 
 they made the substance, not the superficialities, of 
 thought luminous with additional associated mean- 
 ing that kindled imagination, and set fire to enthu- 
 siasm. A howling mob summoned by a cry for help 
 may bring together substance to protect those in 
 danger. But the coming sound of martial music, 
 and the tread of disciplined troops, will be more 
 likely to adjust the matter in a style that will recall 
 the feeling of nationality, the authority of govern- 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 23 
 
 ment, and the supremacy of law, thus reestablishing 
 permanent order. In this utilitarian age, we might 
 get along without certain poetical rhapsodies of 
 literature; but our practical arguments cannot af- 
 ford to be without those forms of language which, 
 by giving stimulus and suggestion, like the sparkle 
 and flash that sometimes shoot out from an electric 
 current, light up the course of thought on either side 
 of the straight line of logic. It is not enough to 
 show men the grounds of an opinion. Grounds may 
 contain nothing beyond sand and gravel. To recog- 
 nize and realize and relish all that there is in the 
 world of proof, men need to know something of the 
 glaciers of its mountains, the verdure of its valleys, 
 the fragrance of its flowers. 
 
 The failure to assign due importance to cultivat- 
 ing the ability to think and to present thought with 
 all its breadth of import seems to accord with many 
 prevailing tendencies of our age and country. Many 
 if not the most of us are materialists ; and material- 
 ists recognize fully only the demands of matter. 
 Many are utilitarians, and utilitarians estimate 
 highly only that which is a utensil. It may be easy 
 enough for both to perceive the need of practise in 
 order to acquire skill in arts like painting or music. 
 They can see the fingers, hands, throats that need to 
 be trained. But when it comes to that which has 
 to do solely with the unseen mind, they fail to per- 
 ceive a like necessity of acquiring facility in such 
 subtle things as observation, classification and logi- 
 cal and analogical inference. They have no realiz- 
 ing conception of what was meant by Henry Ward 
 Beecher when he ascribed to practise his success not 
 only in speaking but in writing and formulating that 
 
24 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 imaginative presentation of thought which made all 
 the world term him a genius. Without such a con- 
 ception, the importance of training in college is over- 
 looked by students, their parents and their profes- 
 sors. Some of the latter, indeed, are so influenced 
 by an excess of utilitarianism that, even when they 
 know better, they are willing to be guided by less ex- 
 pert opinion. In response to the supposed demands 
 of the age, they are chiefly solicitous to make their 
 institution popular. Accordingly a curriculum is 
 allowed which fails to train the mind; and not only 
 so, but fails even to reveal to the student, as a little 
 practise required in experimenting, surveying, ex- 
 pounding, debating might do, his own especial apti- 
 tudes; yet no one who does not discover these can 
 ever make a real success of his life. 
 
 As a rule, only the artist who starts out, as does 
 a great painter or orator, by training some part of 
 the body ends by learning, through practical experi- 
 ence, how much the same sort of training can do for 
 the mind also. Few instructors, except of art, have 
 had this experience. Probably this is why our pres- 
 ent neglect of mental training has been due — as it 
 has — mainly to the influence of teachers of science. 
 It involves no disparagement of science per se to re- 
 mind some of these of certain requirements of time 
 and place. A bachelor may not object to a woman 
 per se, although he may object, very decidedly, to 
 having her introduced into his room in the morning 
 before he is prepared to receive her. The truth 
 seems to be that certain forms of science, and cer- 
 tain methods of teaching it are not adapted to the 
 mental needs of ordinary college students. Un- 
 derlying astronomy and physics, for instance, there 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 25 
 
 are many general principles as well as facts which 
 every intelligent person can understand, and ought 
 to know, like the theories with reference to the for- 
 mation and movements of the heavenly bodies, with 
 reference to the vibrations causing sounds and col- 
 ors and harmony in both, and with reference to 
 many of the more practical phases of mechanics and 
 electricity. The study of these is appropriate for a 
 college course. But I have known very brilliant 
 college professors so obtuse to the limitations of 
 the unmathematically developed mind as to dwell 
 only on the mathematics of such subjects. They did 
 this with a motive perfectly legitimate to a univer- 
 sity, i. e., in order to impart knowledge and efficiency 
 such as necessitate carrying out mathematical prin- 
 ciples. Yet their method left more than one-half of 
 their pupils where they, probably, derived no benefit 
 from the course and possibly derived great harm, 
 because deriving from it a habit of becoming willing 
 to go over a subject without understanding it. In 
 other cases, I have known science to be taught with- 
 out any quizzing whatever, as philosophy, for in- 
 stance, would have been taught by Mark Hopkins, 
 in case he has spent his time merely in lecturing, or 
 in finding out what students had learned by rote 
 from a text-book. 
 
 The general conclusion that it seems important to 
 emphasize here is that professors who consider it 
 to be the sole object of their profession to see that 
 students become learned in a technical and scholastic 
 sense should get out of the college, and go into the 
 university. No one ever yet succeeded in making 
 the ordinary college-student a scholar. The failure 
 to do so should suggest that some mistake has been 
 
26 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 made in supposing that it can be done. Yet the old- 
 time professor left over to the present who recog- 
 nizes that it cannot be done, and addresses his teach- 
 ing to the development of the understanding of the 
 average mind is considered, in these days, to be an- 
 tiquated. Other professors, faculties in general, 
 and students ia particular think that he needs to 
 " modernize "^ — by which, too often, is practically 
 meant to advertise — ^himself. This conception is 
 frequently, at least, faithfully carried out. Instruc- 
 tors fresh from German or other universities are 
 hardly in their seats in front of the Freshman before 
 they hurry to exhibit all the treasures that they 
 themselves have accumulated in apparently preco- 
 cious mental explorations. Their ideal seems to be 
 to talk to staring eyes and gaping mouths about the 
 empyrean and the bottom of the sea. But these are 
 too far off to be seen by the unhelpt eye ; and most of 
 the Freshmen can neither fly nor dive, and have not 
 even learned to use telescopes. How very few teach- 
 ers appear to be aware that self-denial and self-sac- 
 rifice on their own part, are the prices that must al- 
 ways be paid by those who would redeem another 
 from his deficiencies, either of mind or of spirit! 
 Instead of giving an unpopular drill, they accept 
 memorizing for mathematics, and, for Latin, hap- 
 hazard sight-reading, without any of that careful 
 discrimiaation in the use of synonyms and gram- 
 matical forms which according to the older method, 
 could improve, at least, one 's English. 
 
 As for English itself, anyone acquainted with the 
 conditions knows that, influenced by the scientific 
 tendencies of the age, professors in this have been 
 tumbling over one another, in a rush to prove, for- 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 27 
 
 sooth, that their department too is scientific. This 
 fact accounts for much of the instruction to those 
 who will never use it in old English, Anglo-Saxon, 
 Gothic and philology. But it accounts for more too. 
 I recently had occasion to look over two examina- 
 tion-papers in English literature prepared in one of 
 our foremost universities. It is not an exaggera- 
 tion to say that a student could have passed perfectly 
 in each of them, and not had the slightest conception 
 of that which was important in the particular au- 
 thors to whom they referred, nor the slightest ap- 
 preciation of prose or poetry in general. Not only 
 so, but he might have failed completely in each ex- 
 amination, and yet possest most delicate and dis- 
 criminating taste, cultivated by extensive and 
 judicious reading. The questions were all what 
 might be termed historical or philological, like 
 "What character in the book or play said or did 
 this, and why?" or "What is the derivation of this 
 word or phrase, and how used by other writers?" 
 All this, of very slight interest or importance to any 
 but an extremely technical scholar, had apparently 
 been called to the attention of students at the ex- 
 pense of omitting practical requirement in the way 
 of discovering, analyzing and interpreting the ele- 
 ments of plot or style; or of reproducing the same 
 thoughts and effects with other phraseology, figures 
 or framework; or of expressing and presenting 
 original conceptions according to similar methods of 
 statement or suggestion. This latter kind of work 
 has been dropt for the reason, apparently and, in 
 some cases, confessedly, that instructors in science, 
 and, as applied to English, in pseudo-science, have 
 discovered at last — what, of course, was not appre- 
 
28 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 hended during the himdred years previous — that no 
 professor attending performances in which a student 
 presents the results of such work can expect to 
 gather new information from them! Why, there- 
 fore, should the performances take place? 
 
 Of course, the answer is, for the sake of the stu- 
 dent, — to train the mind of the boy into that of the 
 man by cultivating that which a boy cannot have but 
 a man should have. Beginning with the needs of a 
 growing physique, this justifies gymnastic require- 
 ments, possibly a military drill— for all not con- 
 nected with athletic teams. It justifies elocutionary 
 requirements, voice-building being the only known 
 way in which to give an uncultivated rustic the tones 
 of a gentleman, or of training growing lungs to draw 
 blood into every part of them, and, through doing 
 this, into every part of the brain. It does seem 
 strange that materialists, of all men, should not 
 recognize how much this blood is needed. There is 
 no subtly philosophical, only a physiological reason, 
 why many a student too dull to take interest in other 
 branches has been led through elocution to dis- 
 cover interest in them, and, ultimately, to develop 
 not only brightness but brilliancy. The aim of the 
 college requires rhetoric too with composition, 
 analysis of themes, and debating, all practised in the 
 presence of an instructor. 
 
 With reference to other branches, paradoxical as 
 it may seem, the chief obstacle in the way of pursu- 
 ing a rational method is that combined result of the 
 experience and reasoning of our foremost educators 
 embodied in what is termed the graded system. 
 This is adapted to meet the need of the average stu- 
 dent, but it keeps the bright one back after he is pre- 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 29 
 
 pared to go on; and, before this, it drags the dull 
 one forward. As a result, the first of these is apt 
 to develop a lack of interest and positive laziness, 
 because he is not kept busy; and the second to de- 
 velop a willingness to misunderstand and therefore 
 chronic stupidity, because he has not been given 
 time to master, with his class, those elements of the 
 subject essential to intelligent progress. Why was 
 I myself made, as I have already described, to recite 
 in Latin five or six times a week for almost eight 
 years after I could read Virgil with easel Why 
 was I not allowed to go on to something else, or to 
 read through the whole field of Latin literature? 
 Why, after I had finished algebra in three weeks, 
 and felt an interest in the subject, was I not allowed 
 to go on and complete my studies in mathematics? 
 Was it not a waste of time for me to recite and to 
 listen to recitations in algebra for about four suc- 
 cessive years following this ? Why, in a high school 
 examination held recently, should less than thirty 
 per cent, have been able to work out successfully 
 simple arithmetical problems studied in a lower 
 class ? Should they not have been kept in this class 
 a little longer? 
 
 A recognition of certain evils thus suggested con- 
 nected with the graded system led, a few years ago, 
 to the establishment of the elective system. But 
 this corrects merely the mistake of obliging all stu- 
 dents, irrespective of their tastes, acquirements, or 
 purposes in life, to study the same branches. It 
 does little more than allow the choice of one graded 
 system rather than another, and leaves untouched 
 the greater evil arising from the fact that students 
 differ not only in mental tastes and purposes in life, 
 
30 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 but in mental efficiency and ability to acquire. That 
 which would correct the latter evil would be an ar- 
 rangement whereby a student should be allowed, 
 whenever ready for it, to pass an examination upon 
 a certain amount of work, and, after having done so, 
 to move on to the study of something else. In pre- 
 paratory schools, the age and experience of pupils, 
 most of whom need constant oversight and explana- 
 tion, might prevent this plan from being feasible; 
 but in colleges it would afford exactly that academic 
 freedom which most students now seem to be de- 
 manding. 
 
 It may be asked how such an arrangement could 
 make the college efficient in developing ability to 
 think, as well as in causing an acquisition of knowl- 
 edge. It could be done in this way,^ — by requiring, 
 in addition to examinations in the subject-matter of 
 certain books — ^Latin, German, mathematics, as the 
 case might be — an attendance upon a certain num- 
 ber of exercises designed to develop the thinking 
 powers. Of course, recitations and lectures could 
 continue as at present for those needing them. But 
 for those not needing them, thorough and satisfac- 
 tory examinations could be substituted, and put on 
 the credit side of the record required in order to se- 
 cure a diploma. As for training in thinking and in 
 presenting thought, there are some departments — 
 those, for instance, having to do with the translating 
 of foreign languages, or with the drawing of plans 
 or the analysis of themes — in which it can be judged 
 by its results. But there are other departments in 
 which one can never be sure that it has been given, 
 except by taking account of the time that has been 
 devoted to it. This is, perhaps, the main reason for 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 31 
 
 the old custom of requiring recitations and quizzing 
 exercises, as well as exercises in rhetoric, debate and 
 oratory. At present, owing to certain abuses, by 
 no means necessary, but incident to the elective sys- 
 tem, students, in some colleges, can receive diplomas 
 for very little work of this latter practical kind, — 
 for very little work, in fact, beyond that of memoriz- 
 ing. This would not be possible if, in addition to 
 examinations in certain subjects, there were also re- 
 quired actual attendance upon exercises designed to 
 necessitate thinking. It would not be necessary to 
 require these in every course, nor, often, to restrict 
 the student's choice of them. Certain professors 
 particularly proficient in this form of instruction 
 would and ought, probably, to draw disproportion- 
 ate numbers of pupils. It would be necessary 
 merely to require a student, before taking his di- 
 ploma, to be present at a certain number of these ex- 
 ercises — say, including those in practise of rhetoric, 
 six hundred in all, which would make one hundred 
 and fifty a year for a course of four years, and two 
 hundred a year for a course of three years. 
 
 Notice some of the advantages of this system: 
 first, it would place the amount of the subject-matter 
 required upon a rational basis, causing us to judge 
 of the student's acquirements by the results; second, 
 it would leave the student more free than at present 
 to work when and how he chooses, — an arrangement 
 that he desires, and that some think that he ought to 
 desire ; third, it would solve the most important part 
 of the problem with reference to absences; no stu- 
 dent could get credit for exercises that he did not 
 attend; fourth, it would give similar meaning and 
 value to every diploma, notwithstanding the fact 
 
32 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 tliat it might enable a bright student to graduate in 
 two years, and keep a dull one at work for six years ; 
 fifth, it would allow students to attend what is 
 termed a university, and yet not wholly escape get- 
 ting an education; indeed one might argue that it 
 would afford the only feasible method of enabling 
 them, from such an institution, without its being 
 radically and, perhaps, unwisely, changed from the 
 form which it has, at present, assumed, to obtaui a 
 complete and competent college course; sixth, it 
 would develop a class of teachers, now greatly 
 needed, who would become as famous for quizzing 
 as a lawyer often does for cross-questioning; and 
 they would attract and benefit great numbers ; and, 
 seventh, it would actually do more than the present 
 system toward accomplishing the results at which 
 this system aims. It would turn out better scholars, 
 judged only by the knowledge obtained. The rea- 
 son is this: the memory always works according to 
 the principle exemplified when children learn by 
 rote. Subjects of thought are retained in the mind, 
 and retained permanently, in the degree in which 
 they are repeated at short intervals of time. A man 
 devoting the whole of several successive days to 
 translating a single foreign language will come upon 
 the same forms and phrases so frequently, that it 
 will be impossible for him not to remember them. 
 Were he to devote only a single half-hour each day, 
 to this work, he would come upon them less fre- 
 quently, and would usually forget them before see- 
 ing them a second time. By consequence, the repe- 
 tition would do him no good. Students should, 
 therefore, be allowed and encouraged to concentrate 
 their attention upon one subject at a time, as would 
 
FUNDAMENTALS OF EDUCATION 33 
 
 be the case, were we to abolish, our graded system, 
 and merely require before the end of the course, a 
 certain amount of subject-matter. This is the method 
 adopted in the foreign university not only, but by 
 almost every individual scholar who, m any depart- 
 ment, becomes really proficient. It is strange that 
 the fact has been entirely overlooked in the arrange- 
 ments for college courses. But, if something were 
 not awry in these courses, students, and scholarly 
 students too, would not so frequently fret at being 
 obliged to spend so much of their time in running 
 to-and-fro upon a campus like bell-boys summoned 
 by those in want, as they sometimes feel, mainly of 
 imprecation. That which may be necessary in the 
 academy is not always even a necessary evil in a 
 college. 
 
 It may be said, therefore, that the sort of curricu- 
 lum suggested would be aimed directly toward mak- 
 ing a man a thinker, and yet would probably be more 
 effective than the present in making him a scholar. 
 Why cannot we have a college course of this kind, 
 extending over a few years, at least, if not four? 
 Must the call of the ideal and the rational be wholly 
 disregarded merely because a large number of those 
 to whom neither appeals urge us not to heed it? Is 
 there nothing left among us of the spirit that was in 
 Frederick Douglass when he said ' ' One with God is 
 a majority ' ' ? Has the scholar forgotten that, in cer- 
 tain emergencies, it is his duty to think for the peo- 
 ple as well as with them? We might as well at- 
 tempt to obtain high agricultural results by merely 
 fencing in the soil that we find about us as to obtain 
 high educational results by merely inclosing in a col- 
 lege wall the products of a culture planned to do 
 
34 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 no more than fulfil the expectations of the unedu- 
 cated world outside of it. That which, by destroying 
 for a time apparent fertility and delaying de- 
 velopment, a Luther Burbank can do in the produc- 
 tion of plant and flower and fruit, the faculty of a 
 college can do in the field of education. Through 
 following the guidance of the spirit of an age in 
 haste to get into remunerative work, it may turn out 
 graduates who, without mastery of implements, 
 comprehension of possibilities, or associated powers 
 of initiative, can do as well as can be expected from 
 the natural endowment of an unskilled workman ; or, 
 by sharpening wits, widening knowledge, and stimu- 
 lating conceptions, it may do for its students what 
 natural endowment cannot do. In this case, those 
 who continue their studies in a higher institution 
 will be prepared to know that branch of learning for 
 which they have aptitudes, its relation to other 
 branches, and the departments of it in which devel- 
 opment and discovery are needed; and the much 
 larger number of graduates who, without further 
 study, go forth into the business of the world, will 
 do so to find in it not only money for themselves but 
 motives for others, whom they may benefit not only 
 as day-laborers but as those who, in dreams as well 
 as deeds, are working out the results of broad cul- 
 ture that can estimate rightly, of practised experi- 
 ence that can execute wisely, and of enlightened pur- 
 pose that can lead intelligently. 
 
ART AND EDUCATION* 
 
 Human intelligence is a manifestation of many 
 different tendencies, but all may be resolved into 
 tbree, — tbose having tbeir sources ia the under- 
 standing, in the will, and in the emotions; and the 
 departments in which mainly the three are re- 
 spectively exprest are science — not philosophy, for 
 this is a broader term, derived from a different 
 principle of classification — religion, and art. Sci- 
 ence, as a development of the understanding, be- 
 gins in observation and tends toward knowledge; 
 religion, as a development of the will, begins in 
 conscience and tends toward conduct; and art, as 
 a development of the emotions, begins in imagina- 
 tion and tends toward sentiment. It must not be 
 supposed, however, though we can thus in concep- 
 tion separate the three departments, that there is 
 ever a time when in practise they fail to act con- 
 jointly or mutually to affect one another. When we 
 examine some of the oldest monuments of the world 
 — like the Pyramids of Egypt — ^it is difficult to tell 
 the results of which of the three we are studying. 
 Mathematicians and astronomers say of science; 
 moralists and theologians, of religion ; and archeolo- 
 gists and artists, of art. So with the older civiliza- 
 tions of the world, — those of Judea, Greece, Eome. 
 
 * Delivered at Saratoga, N. T., Aug. 30, 1898, before the American 
 Social Science Association, on the occasion of its establishing a de- 
 partment combining Education and Art. Reprinted from its Journal. 
 
36 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 The physician or the jurist traces in them as many 
 indications of the science of the laws of health or 
 government as the ritualist or the rationalist does 
 of the religions of theism or stoicism, or as the lit- 
 terateur of the critic does of the arts of poetry or 
 of sculpture. 
 
 The dark ages rendered men equally unable to 
 carry on scientific observations, to recognize the 
 spiritual claims of a human brother, or to repro- 
 duce his bodUy lineaments. "Wben the Eenaissance 
 began to dawn, it is difficult to determine from 
 which the sky first gathered redness, — from the 
 flash of Roger Bacon's gunpowder, the light of 
 Wyclif's Bible, or the fire of Dante's hell. When 
 it was bright enough to see clearly, no one knows 
 which was the foremost in drafting the plan of 
 progress, — the compasses of Copernicus, the pen of 
 Calvin, or the pencil of Eaphael. Even in the same 
 country, great leaders in all three departments al- 
 ways appear together, — in Italy, Columbus, Savo- 
 narola, and Angelo; in Spain, James of Mallorca, 
 Loyola, and Calderon; in France, Descartes, Bos- 
 suet, and Moliere; in Germany, Humboldt, Schlei- 
 ermacher, and Goethe; in England, Watt, Wesley, 
 and Eeynolds. In fact, the three seem as insep- 
 arably connected in indicating sovereignty over civ- 
 ilization as were of old the three prongs of the tri- 
 dent of Neptune in indicating sovereignty over the 
 sea. 
 
 When things go together, they usually belong to- 
 gether. When they belong together, no one of 
 them can be at its best without the presence of the 
 others. The bearing of this fact upon the subject 
 before us is sometimes overlooked. There are sci- 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 37 
 
 entists wlio think that, when they give forth a word 
 from their department, they have about as much 
 need of re-enforcement from the utterances of re- 
 ligion as have locomotive engineers of the pipings of 
 a penny whistle. There are religionists who think 
 that they can get along without the mathematical 
 discipline of science about as well as can the march- . 
 ers in a processional without a military drill ; while 
 both are inclined to an impression that art may 
 actually interfere with their success, as much as a 
 liveried footman with that of a country doctor. 
 Nevertheless, art not only furnishes important aids 
 to the full development of the other two, but is 
 even essential to it. If neglecting knowledge, to- 
 ward which science tends, religion lacks intelli- 
 gence, and art observation. If caring nothing for 
 conduct, at which religion aims, science lacks prac- 
 ticality, and art inspiration. If destitute of imagi- 
 nation and sentiment, which art cultivates, science 
 becomes divorced from philosophy, and religion 
 from refinement. It was in the dark ages, when 
 they had no art, that the test of a sage was the abil- 
 ity to repeat by rote long, senseless incantations; 
 and the test of a saint was to fulfil the rule, scru- 
 pulously passed for his guidance by the councils of 
 the Church, that he should never wash himself. 
 
 But to indicate more specifically what is meant. 
 Science has to do mainly with matter, religion with 
 spirit, and art with both; for by matter we mean 
 the external world and its appearances, which art 
 must represent, and by spirit we mean the internal 
 world of thoughts and emotions, which also art 
 must represent. The foundations of art, therefore, 
 rest in the realms both of science and of religion; 
 
38 EDUCATION, AST AND CIVICS 
 
 and its superstructure is the bridge between them. 
 Nor can you get from the one to the other, or enjoy 
 the whole of the territory in which humanity was 
 made to live, without using the bridge. Matter and 
 spirit are like water and steam. They are separate 
 in reality: we join them in conception. So with 
 science and religion, and the conception which 
 brings both into harmonious union is a normal de- 
 velopment of only art. 
 
 In unfolding this line of thought, it seems best to 
 show how art develops the powers of the mind, 
 first, in the same direction as does science ; and, sec- 
 ond, in the same as does religion; and, under each 
 head, so far as possible, to show, in addition, how 
 art develops them conjoiutly also in both directions. 
 
 Let us begin, then, with the correspondences be- 
 tween the educational influence of the study of art 
 and of science. The end of science is knowledge 
 with reference mainly to the external material 
 world. "We must not forget, however, that the lat- 
 ter includes our material body, with both its mus- 
 cular and nervous systems. To acquire a knowl- 
 edge of the world, the primary condition, and an 
 essential one — a condition important in religion, but 
 iuot nearly to the same extent — is keenness of the 
 perceptive powers, accuracy of observation. No 
 man can be an eminent botanist, zoologist, or min- 
 eralogist, who fails to notice, almost at a first 
 glance, and in such a way as to be able to recall, 
 the forms and colors of leaves, bushes, limbs, rocks, 
 or crystals. No man can make a discovery or in- 
 vention, and thus do that which is chiefly worth 
 doing in science, unless he can perceive, with such 
 retention as to be able to recall, series of outlines 
 
ABT AND EDUCATION 39 
 
 and tints, and the orders of their arrangement and 
 sequence. Now can you tell me any study for the 
 young that will cultivate accuracy of observation, 
 that will begin to do this, as can be done by setting 
 them tasks ia drawing, coloring, carving, or, if we 
 apply the same principle to the ear as well as to the 
 eye, in elocution and music? In order to awaken a 
 realization of how little some persons perceive in 
 the world, I used to ask my classes how many win- 
 dows there were in a certain building that they had 
 passed hundreds of times, or how many stories 
 there were in another building. Scarcely one in six 
 could answer correctly. Is it possible to suppose 
 that one could have avoided noticing such things 
 in case his eyes had been trained to observation 
 through the study of drawing, to say nothing of the 
 effect of special training in the direction of archi- 
 tecture? Of course, there are men born with keen 
 powers of perception, on which everything at which 
 they glance seems to be photographed. But the ma- 
 jority are not so. They have to be trained to use 
 their eyes as well as their other organs. President 
 Chadbourne, of Williams College, at a time when 
 professor of botany in that institution, was once 
 lost with a friend in a fog on Greylock Mountain. 
 It was almost dark; but, in feeling around among 
 the underbrush, his hand struck something. " I 
 know where we are, ' ' he said. ' ' The path is about 
 two hundred feet away from here. There is only 
 one place in it from which you see bushes like 
 these." I used to take walks with an old army gen- 
 eral. Time and again, when we came to a ravine 
 or a rolling field, he would stop and point out how 
 he would distribute his forces in the neighborhood, 
 
40 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 were there to be a battle there. These are examples 
 I of the result of cultivating powers of observation 
 ! in special directions. The advantageqf j-rt educa- 
 tion, given to the young, is that lit cultivates the 
 same powers in all directions. While the nature is 
 pliable to influence, it causes a habit of mind — in a 
 sense, a scientific habit — that is important in every 
 department in which men need to have knowledge. 
 Not only the botanist and the soldier, but the 
 teacher, the preacher, the lawyer, the politician, 
 the merchant, the banker, is fitted to meet all the 
 requirements of his position in the degree in which 
 his grasp of great and important matters does not 
 let slip the small and apparently insignificant de- 
 tails that enter into them. Some years ago a poor 
 boy from the country, hoping to obtain a position, 
 brought a letter of introduction to a London bank; 
 but he found no place vacant. He turned away dis- 
 appointed ; but, before he had gone far, a messenger 
 overtook and recalled him. The proprietors had 
 decided to make a place for him. Tears afterward, 
 when he had become the leading banker of London 
 and the Lord High Treasurer of the kingdom, he 
 was told the reason why he had been thus recalled. 
 As he was leaving the bank, he had noticed a pin 
 on the pavement, and had stooped down, picked it 
 up, and placed it in his waistcoat. The one who 
 saw that single little act had judged, and judged 
 rightly, that he was the sort of boy whose services 
 the bank could not afford to lose. 
 
 Observation of this kind contributes to success, 
 not only in the larger relations of life, but still 
 more, perhaps, in the smaller. What is the germ 
 of tact, courtesy, and kindliness in social and 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 41 
 
 family relations? What but the observation of , 
 little things, and of their effects? And notice that 
 the observation of these in one department neces-) 
 sarily goes with the same in other departments.' 
 What is the reason that a man of esthetic culture 
 is the last to come into his home swearing like a 
 cowboy, cocking his hat over the vases on the 
 mantelpiece, or forcing his boots up into their so- 
 ciety? Because this sort of manner is not to his 
 taste. Why not? Because, for one reason, he has/ 
 learned the value of little matters of appearance; 
 and for any man to learn of them in one depart-; 
 ment is to learn of them in all departments. But, to 
 turn to such things as are especially cultivated by 
 art, what is it that makes a room, when we enter it, 
 seem cheerful and genial? What but the observa- 
 tion of little arrangements that prevent lines from 
 being awry and colors from being discordant? 
 What is the matter with that woman whom we all 
 know, — the woman who, when on Sundays she is 
 waved into the pew in front of us, makes us half 
 believe that the minister has hired her to flag the 
 line of worshipers behind, so as to give them a 
 realizing sense that, even while taking the name of 
 the Lord upon their lips, they may be tempted to 
 expressions appropriate only for miserable sin- 
 ners? She gets into the street-car, and we feel as 
 if we had disgraced ourselves in bowing to her. 
 She comes to our summer hotel ; and the mere fact 
 of recognizing her involves our spending much of 
 the rest of our time in proving to others the con- 
 tradictory proposition that, notwithstanding her 
 extravagance in lending lavish color to every occa- 
 sion, she has not yet exhausted all the capital that 
 
42 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 keeps her from being " off-color." But think vs^hat 
 it must be to live perpetually in the glare of such 
 sunshine! Physically, inharmonious hues produce 
 a storm amid the sight-waves, and amid the nerves 
 of the eye, too, and, as all our nerves are connected, 
 amid those of thought, emotion, digestion. In fact, 
 the whole nervous system sails upon waves, just as 
 a ship does; and storms may prove disagreeable. 
 It has not a slight bearing, then, upon comfort, 
 health, geniality, and sanity to be color-blind, or 
 -daft, or -ignorant. It is not of slight importance 
 to have children trained so that they shall realize 
 that warm colors and cold colors, though not neces- 
 sarily inducing changes in temperature, may in- 
 duce changes in temper; that the cheering effects 
 of the room characterized by the one are very dif- 
 ferent from the somber effects produced by the 
 presence of the other ; that the brilliance of the full 
 hues echoing back wit and mirth in the hall of feast- 
 ing might not seem at all harmonious to the mood 
 in need of rest and slumber. 
 
 [ Fully as important as that which leads to per- 
 sonal or social advantage is that which enhances 
 one's own inward satisfaction. It is no less true 
 that our lives are worth to others exactly what they 
 see that we find in the world, than that the world is 
 worth to us exactly what we find in it for ourselves. 
 If this be so, how important is it for us to learn to 
 observe ! 
 
 One method of learning this, as has been said, is 
 through studying the elements of art practically. 
 Few can study them thus, however, without begin- 
 ning to study them theoretically also; nor without 
 beginning to take an interest in the products of the 
 
ABT AND EDUCATION 43 
 
 great artists in all departments. And here again, ^ 
 to whatever art we look, in the degree in which a 
 work rises toward the highest rank, it continues to! 
 train our powers of observation. One difference 
 between the great poet, for instance, and the little 
 poet is in those single words and phrases that indi- 
 cate accuracy in the work of ear or eye, or of log- 
 ical or analogical inference. Eecall Tennyson's 
 references to the " gouty oak," the " shock-head 
 willow," the " wet-shod alder," "We all admit that 
 genius, especially literary genius, is characterized 
 by brilliance. A brilliant concentrates at a single 
 point all the light of all the horizon, and from 
 thence flashes it forth intensified. This is precisely 
 the way in which a brilliant stylist uses form. In 
 describing anything in nature, he selects that which 
 is typical or representative of the whole, and often 
 not only of the whole substance of a scene, but 
 even of its atmosphere. Notice the following from 
 Shakespeare : 
 
 "The battle fares like to the morning's war, 
 
 When dying clouds contend with growing light; 
 What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
 Can neither call it perfect day nor night." 
 
 3 Henry VI., ii., 5. 
 
 Observe what a picture could be made of this; yet 
 that which most suggests it is put into exactly four 
 words, blowing of Ms nails. The same fact is true 
 of painting and sculpture. Of course, many fac- 
 tors enter into excellence in these arts, and pre- 
 eminent success in certain directions may compen- 
 sate for deficiencies in other directions. But, as a ! 
 rule, the rank of a picture or a statue is determined . 
 by the relative manifestation in it of accuracy in 
 
44 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 [observing and in reproducing the results of obser- 
 'vation; i.e., by the manifestation of imitative skill 
 and of technical facility. Not that all products 
 equally successful in these are of equal excellence. 
 Back of one product there may be a spiritual sig- 
 nificance, a psychologic charm lifting it into a 
 sphere where are gathered only the works of those 
 who are the gods of the artistic Olympus, while 
 back of another may be nothing suggestive of the 
 possibility of what we term artistic inspiration. 
 Nevertheless, what has been said will be found to 
 be true. Art always deals with effects which na- 
 ture presents to the ear or eye, and never survives 
 the fashions of the times in which it is produced 
 except in the degree iji which it manifests accuracy 
 in the observation of nature. Music survives in the 
 degree in which it fulfils laws founded upon the 
 observation of tones, the blendings and sequences 
 of which cause agreeable effects upon the ear; 
 architecture in the degree in which it fulfils laws 
 founded upon the observation of shapes and out- 
 lines, the harmonies and proportions of which cause 
 agreeable effects upon the eye. Painting and sculp- 
 ture fulfil not only the formative laws, but repro- 
 duce the formal effects of outline and color; and 
 I the first condition of successful reproduction is ac- 
 curacy. This accuracy is not inconsistent with leav- 
 ing out some features and emphasizing others, and 
 presenting the whole from different points of view. 
 But it is inconsistent with distortion of any kind. 
 Why? For the same reason that, if we wish a man 
 to see anything through a field-glass, we must ad- 
 just the glass exactly to the point of sight. If not, 
 he sees mainly certain obscuring effects of the 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 45 
 
 glass. Tho meant to be an agent, it has become an 
 end. When we look at a picture in which the draw- 
 ing or coloring is defective, causing disproportion 
 in the parts, unatmospherie sharpness of outlLae, 
 absence of shadowy gradation^ — above all, a pre- 
 dominating impression of paint everywhere — the 
 effect is exactly like that of powder and rouge on 
 a woman's face. It is impossible to see any soul 
 through or past the form. This, if it do not blur 
 or blind the eye to ulterior suggestions, at least, 
 appeals to it in such a way as to be a barrier pre- 
 venting them from exerting their normal imagina- 
 tive influence. Therefore, tho, viewed in one as- 
 pect, imitative skill and technical facility are 
 merely conditions for making possible the spir- 
 itual and mental effects of art, viewed in another 
 aspect, they have more importance than the word 
 condition might imply; for they are indispensable. 
 As most of us know, Mr. Beardsley 's name is some- 
 times mentioned by prominent and able American 
 critics with a certain degree of respect, owing to 
 his manifestation, as is said, of originality and in- 
 vention. One cannot refrain from feeling that fur- 
 ther reflection would cause these critics to withhold 
 anything in the direction of actual commendation. 
 Mr. Beardsley 's work * is legitimate neither to 
 decorative painting nor to figure-painting. Deco- 
 rative art, like architecture, should fulfil certain 
 mathematical laws controlling the intersection and 
 curvature, the balance and symmetry, of lines, as 
 well as certain physical laws controlling concord 
 and contrast of colors, introducing figures, if at all, 
 
 * This was first printed in 1898. The "fad" then criticized is now, 
 in 1910, no longer popular. 
 
46 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 only in a subordinate way. These principles of 
 decorative art Mr. Beardsley's work does not fulfil. 
 Figure-painting, tho partly fulfilling the same prin- 
 ciples, subordinates them to the reproduction of 
 natural appearances. Yet Mr. Beardsley fails to 
 reproduce these appearances with accuracy, show- 
 ing either that he does not know how to observe or 
 that he does not know how to draw, or, at least, fails 
 to manifest the results of his knowledge. If this be 
 true, it follows, as a corollary from what was said 
 a moment ago, that, just in the degree in which it is 
 true, his work fails to be a medium connecting the 
 mind with nature, and influencLrig it according to 
 the method of nature. But what of that? it may 
 be asked. Why not treat his pictures and others of 
 the " Yellow Book " and the posters of the period 
 — for all manifest the same tendency — as artistic 
 jokes or caricatures ? Why not ? For the very suf- 
 ficient reason that artists and critics insist upon 
 our not treating them so. The style has begun to 
 influence serious work, and, by consequence, to ac- 
 custom, not only people in general, but artists to 
 pictures not accurately drawn and colored. I have 
 lately seen certain angels in a stained-glass win- 
 dow by a well-known artist, capable of doing fine 
 work. They manifest their poster-progeniture in 
 limbs so deformed, flesh so dropsical, colors so dis- 
 eased, and expressions of countenance so forbidding 
 that no sane mind conceiving them to represent an 
 ideal would ever — to say no more — " want to be an 
 angel." Indeed, if one after death were to meet 
 angels like them, however good he might be, he 
 would be sure to turn around, and go straight down 
 hiU. 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 47 
 
 It is a fact overlooked by many how rapidly art, 
 owing to its other necessarily imitative methods, 
 when it once begins to decline, continues to do so. 
 The sense of proportion in the human face and 
 form was entirely lost once, and recovered again, 
 during the period of the art of ancient Egypt. It 
 was lost ia Europe all the time between the third 
 and thirteenth centuries. It has been lost many 
 times in China and Japan. In architecture, as de- 
 veloped ia Greece, the same sense was lost before 
 Rome was in its prime. It continued lost till the 
 rise of Gothic architecture. It is lost again in our 
 own time. The simplest principles of proportional 
 perspective, which the Greek applied to buildings 
 precisely as we do to pictures, are not merely mis- 
 apprehended, but are not considered possible either 
 of apprehension or of application by our foremost 
 architects.* So with color— from Apelles to Leo- 
 nardo an almost constant decline. And think what 
 a sudden decline there was after the period of the 
 great Italian painters. Notice, too, that these de- 
 clines were largely owing to the inability of the 
 people, to whom the art works appealed, to per- 
 ceive the defects. Little by little, they had ac- 
 cepted these, one after another, because supposing 
 them to accord not necessarily with nature — for 
 some knew better than that — ^but with the conven- 
 tionalities of art. Just as everybody ia Italy, be- 
 fore the time of Dante, supposed that literature 
 could be written in only Latin, tho imintelligible to 
 the common people, so everybody in these ages of 
 
 * This was first printed in 1898. Since then it has become not true 
 of some of our architects. See the author's "Proportion and Har- 
 mony. ' ' 
 
48 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 decline had come to expect, in art, forms that were 
 not natural, and so far, for the reasons just given, 
 not intelligible; and all were disappointed if they 
 saw anything else. Suppose that, because the 
 poster art has commercial value, our younger ar- 
 tists begin to imitate it — I mean keep on imitating 
 it — or, if not its precise forms, the principles under- 
 lying them — what will follow? A framed picture 
 will begin to occupy exactly the same position in 
 the eyes of the populace as a dressmaker's show- 
 window. What is there this year seems beautiful. 
 "What was there five years ago seems ugly. Not be- 
 cause either is beautiful or ugly intrinsically — 
 perhaps I ought to say neither is beautiful intrin- 
 sically — but because the dressmaker has to make 
 money. And people call, and most of them think 
 the prevaUiag style beautiful, merely because it 
 happens to be current and popular. They are so 
 constituted that, consciously or unconsciously, they 
 are imable to resist the tide that, apparently, is 
 bearing along every one else. When the same ten- 
 dencies appear in art it strikes me that the critic 
 who is of value to the world is the man who, in case 
 public opinion be setting in the wrong direction, is 
 able to resist it, is able to look beneath the surface, 
 analyze the effects, detect the errors, put together 
 his conclusions, and have independence enough to 
 express them. When the current theory is riding 
 straight toward the brink, he is the man who fore- 
 sees the danger, screws down the brakes, and turns 
 the steeds the other way — not the sentimentalist 
 irresponsibly swept into folly by the fury of the 
 crowd, or the demagog whooping its shibboleth to 
 the echo, because, forsooth, he must be popular. 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 49 
 
 The truth is that, just so far as the tendency of the 
 kind of art of which we are speaking has its perfect 
 work, just so far there will be no necessity for ac- 
 curacy in drawing or coloring, and very little dis- 
 cipline afforded the powers of observation, while 
 trying either to produce or to appreciate the com- 
 pleted artwork. 
 
 This last sentence suggests that we have not, 
 quite ended yet all that can be said of the ten- 
 dency of the study of art to cultivate these latter 
 powers. With observation of the external material 
 world must be included, as has been intimated, that 
 of our own material bodies, involving both their 
 muscular and nervous systems, involving, there- 
 fore, so far as developed from the nervous system, 
 especially through physical exercise, the mind and 
 its various possibilities. Science does much, of 
 course, toward bringing us to a knowledge of these 
 possibilities. No man can use his eyes, ears, mem- 
 ory, as science necessitates, to say nothing of his 
 powers of analysis and generalization, without 
 learning a very great deal. But think how much 
 more he can learn, when he is forced into the repe- 
 titious and conscientious practice which is always 
 necessary before one can acquire that skill which 
 is essential to success in art. 
 
 Just here, in our survey of art, we are approach- 
 ing the boundary line which separates its relations 
 to science from its relations to religion. Notice 
 that, while a man is acquiring skill, he is being 
 brought into the conditions of life and of method 
 which are necessary in order to attain religious 
 ends. What is the object of religion except through 
 practice, in obedience to will and conscience, to 
 
50 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 make the mind supreme over matter, to make a 
 man 's higher powers the master of his lower powers, 
 to make the body, as the Bible terms it, a living 
 temple for the spirit? When we think of it, we 
 recognize that, while science does comparatively 
 little in this direction, art does an immense deal. 
 p?he student of art cannot keep from learning 
 through personal experience how months and years 
 ;of exercise in voice and gesture, in playing music, 
 in drawing, in painting, in carving, give one a mas- 
 tery over the physical possibilities of the body not 
 only, but of the mind. He is forced to realize as 
 others cannot that there comes to be a time when 
 every slightest movement through which music, for 
 instance, passes with the rapidity of electricity 
 from a printed score through the mind and fingers 
 of a performer, is overseen and directed by mental 
 action which, while intelligent, works unconsciously, 
 all the conscious powers of the mind being absorbed 
 in that which is producing the general expressional 
 effect. The student of art has thus before him con- 
 stant experimental evidence of the way in which 
 the higher mental nature can gain ascendency over 
 both the lower physical and the lower psychical na- 
 ture. He knows practically as well as theoretically 
 in what sense it can be true spiritually that the man 
 who is to enter into the kingdom of heaven, who is 
 to become with all his powers subject to the spirit 
 that is sovereign there, and who is, without con- 
 scious effort, to embody in conduct its slightest 
 promptings, is the man who consciously starts out 
 with scrupulous and often painful efforts to do the 
 will of the Father who is in heaven. Thus, in this 
 regard, the study of art completes the lesson 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 51 
 
 learned from science ; and it does so by co-ordinat- 
 ing it to the lesson learned from religion. 
 
 Now let us unfold further the thought suggested 
 in what has just been said. We have been consid-i 
 ering art education as related to developing the 
 powers of observation, and everything that enables 
 the mind to master — as is mainly, tho not exclu- 
 sively, necessary in science— that which comes to it 
 from the material world without. Let us turn 
 from this to consider the same branch of education 
 as related to developing powers of reflection; i.e., 
 of constructive thinking, and the mastery — which is 
 mainly, tho not exclusively, necessary in religion — 
 of that which comes from the mental world within. 
 
 A man begins to reflect, to construct thought, 
 when he learns to draw an inference as a result of 
 putting together at least two things. Of course, he 
 does this when engaged in scientific pursuits. For 
 success in them, nothing is more essential than 
 classification; and the fundamental method of 
 classification is grouping like with like. But notice 
 to how much greater extent a man is obliged to 
 carry on this process at the very beginning of his 
 work in art. Art is distinctively a product of im-' 
 agination, of that faculty of the mind which has to i 
 do with perceiving images, — the image of one thing 
 in the form of another. While science, therefore, 
 may find a single form interesting in itself, art, at 
 its best, never does. It looks for another form with 
 which the first may be compared. While science 
 may be satisfied with a single fact, art, at its best, 
 never is. It demands a parallel fact or fancy, of 
 which the first furnishes a suggestion. 
 
 This imaginative and suggestive character of art ; 
 
52 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 does not need to be proved. We can recog^nize its 
 influence in every artistic result. The movements 
 of sound in music image, for the sake of the beauty 
 that may be developed in connection with the con- 
 struction of such an image, the movements of the 
 voice in speaking. The metaphors and similes of 
 poetry image by way of description the scenes of 
 nature. Pictures and statues image them on can- 
 vas or in marble; and architecture, even when de- 
 void of sculptural ornamentation, is a method of 
 working into an image of beauty the forms through 
 which the primitive savage provides for security 
 and shelter. We may say, therefore, that the very 
 beginning of the mental tendency that culminates 
 in art is a suggestion to the imagination of a rela- 
 tionship existing, primarily, between forms, and, 
 secondarily — because both are necessarily connected 
 — between methods or laws which these forms illus- 
 trate. And how is it with the continuation and 
 conclusion of this mental tendency? Do these, too, 
 emphasize, in a way to be of assistance to science, 
 the same conception of a relationship? A mo- 
 ment's thought will reveal to us that they do, and 
 that here, too, therefore, as in the former part of 
 this discussion, the study of art can be shown to be 
 ' of assistance to the study of science by way both of 
 anticipating its needs and of completing its results. 
 Consider, for instance, the two directions in which 
 it is important for the scientist to notice relation- 
 ships, and in connection with this consider the re- 
 spective classes of studies which are usually con- 
 sidered the best for training the mind to think in 
 these directions. The directions are those corre- 
 sponding to space and time, which are ordinarily 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 53 
 
 termed comprehensiveness of thinking and consec- 
 utiveness. The studies supposed to develop think- 
 ing in these directions are the languages, especially 
 the classics, and mathematics. The classics, re- 
 quiring the student, as they do, to observe, between 
 almost every word and some other word, several 
 different relationships, as of gender, number, case, 
 mood, voice, etc., are supposed to cultivate breadth, 
 or comprehensiveness, of thinking; i. e., the ability 
 to consider things not as isolated, but as related to 
 many other things, and, in the last analysis, to all 
 things, organically. The mathematics cultivate con- 
 secutiveness of thinking; i. e., the ability to con- 
 sider things as related one to another, logically. 
 Everybody admits the importance of training the 
 mental powers in both directions. But notice, in 
 the first place, how much art has to do with fur- 
 nishing the possibility of either form of training. 
 Where would have been any study whatever of the 
 classics, had art done nothing for literature? We 
 should have had no laws of Latin and Greek pros- 
 ody unless the poets had written in rhythm, and no 
 laws of syntax unless philosophers and historians, 
 as well as poets, had been careful about art in style. 
 Again, where would have been our study of mathe- 
 matics, of the resulting effects upon one another of 
 lines in curves or angles, or our study of physical 
 science as determined by such laws as those of 
 sound, or of color, had it not been for the interest 
 first awakened by their esthetic effects in archi- 
 tecture, music, painting, or sculpture? Whether 
 considering nature or art, men always notice ap- 
 pearances before they investigate the causes de- 
 termining them. The old Egyptians were studying 
 
54 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 architecture when they began the investigations 
 which built up their system of mathematics. Py- 
 thagoras was studying music when he began the 
 discovery of the laws of sound, and Leonardo and 
 Chevreul were studying art when they made their 
 contributions to the understanding of color; and, 
 tho the time has now come when those composing 
 the advancing army of science have moved into 
 every remotest valley of the invaded country, ap- 
 parently needing no longer any leadership of the 
 kind, they never would have begun their advance 
 unless, like the hosts of almost every conquering 
 army, they had at first marched behind a standard 
 that in itself was a thing of beauty. 
 
 So much for the services of art in anticipating 
 the needs of scientific study. Now let us notice how 
 art aids in completing its results. When the mind 
 has attained all that classical and mathematical 
 training can give, when one has learned to relate 
 organically and logically everything on eaeb side of 
 him and in front of him, what then? Where does 
 the breadth of view cultivated by classical culture 
 cease? Where does the line of logic projected 
 along the vista of mathematical sequence end? I 
 think that you will admit that the one ceases and 
 the other ends where it should, in the degree in 
 which each attains to something hitherto undis- 
 covered in the knowledge of facts or in the under- 
 standing of principles. Now I wish to show that 
 this result follows only in the degree in which im- 
 agination, in the form in which it is cultivated in 
 art, works in conjunction with the other powers of 
 the mind. There always comes for the scientist a 
 place where material relationships are no longer 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 55 
 
 perceptible, a time where logical sequences of as- 
 certainable phenomena end. He finds the course of 
 his thought checked, whether he look sideways or 
 forward. There is still infinity in the one direction 
 and eternity in the other; and the mind that can 
 make discoveries of great truths and principles is, 
 as a rule, the mind that, when it can advance no 
 longer, step by step, can wing itself into these un- 
 explored regions. How can it do this! Through 
 imagination. How can imagination, when doing it, 
 detect the truth? According to a law of being 
 which makes the mind of man work in harmony 
 with the mind in nature, which makes an imagina- 
 tive surmisal with reference to material things a 
 legitimate product of an intelligent understanding 
 of them. This is the law of correspondence or anal- 
 ogy, which can often sweep a man's thoughts en- 
 tirely beyond that which is a justifiable scientific 
 continuation of the impression received from na- 
 ture. Only in art is the mind necessitated and 
 habituated to recognize this law, which fact may 
 not only suggest a reason why so many successful 
 inventors have started in life, like Fulton, Morse, 
 and Bell, by making a study of some form of art; 
 but it may almost justify a general statement that 
 no great discovery is possible to one whose mind is 
 not able to go beyond that which is ordinarily done 
 in science. As a rule, before an expert in this can 
 become what we mean by even a philosopher, not to 
 speak of a discoverer, he must possess, because 
 born with it or trained to it, that habit of mind 
 which leaps beyond scientific conclusions, in order 
 to form imaginative hypotheses. It is only after 
 some one has made suppositions, as Newton is said 
 
56 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 to have done, when he saw the image of gravitation 
 in the falling of an apple, that a mind adhering 
 strictly to a scientific method finds work to do in en- 
 deavoring to prove them. Nevertheless, man^i-Siji- 
 ientists have a subtle, even a pronounced disbelief, 
 in that arrangement of nature in accordance with 
 which matter and miad, knowledge and surmisal, 
 always move forward on parallel planes with the 
 mind and its surmisal some distance ahead. Their 
 disbelief is owing to a lack of imagination, and this 
 is often owing to a lack of the kind of culture which 
 they might derive from giving attention to some 
 phase of art. And yet the majority of them, per- 
 haps, believe that art is a mere adjunct to intel- 
 lectual training, — an ornamental adjunct, too, intro- 
 ducing, like the carving on the keystone of an arch, 
 what may be interesting and pretty, but is not es- 
 sentially useful. This is a mistake. In important 
 particulars, it may be said that art is not the carv- 
 ing on the keystone, but the keystone itself, without 
 which the whole arch would tumble. 
 
 It will be noticed now that we are approaching 
 the place at which, in a far more important sense 
 than has yet been developed, art may be said, in 
 accordance with what was affirmed at the opening 
 of this paper, to spring the bridge across the gulf 
 that separates religion from science. The mind is 
 never strictly within the realm of science when it 
 is arriving at conclusions otherwise than through 
 methods dealing with material relationships. Noth- 
 ing is scientifically true, unless it can be shown to 
 be fulfilled in fact; i.e., in conditions and results 
 perceptible in ascertainable phenomena. The mo- 
 ment that thought transcends the sphere possible 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 57 
 
 to knowledge, it gets out of the sphere of science. 
 But, when it gets out of this, what sphere, so long 
 as it continues to advance rationally, does it enter? 
 What sphere but that of religion? And think how 
 large a part of human experience — experience 
 which is not a result of what can strictly be termed 
 knowledge — is contained in this sphere ! Where but 
 in it can we find the impulses of conscience, the dic- 
 tates of duty, the cravings for sympathy, the aspi- 
 rations for excellence, the pursuit of ideals, the 
 sense of unworthiness, the desire for holiness, the 
 feeling of dependence upon a higher power, and 
 all these together, exercised in that which causes 
 men to walk by faith, and not by knowledge? The 
 sphere certainly exists. Granting the fact, let us 
 ask what it is that can connect with this sphere of 
 faith the sphere of knowledge? Has any method 
 yet been found of conducting thought from the ma- 
 terial to the spiritual according to any process 
 strictly scientific? Most certainly not. There 
 comes a place where there is a great gulf fixed be- 
 tween the two. Now notice that the one who leads 
 the conceptions of men across this gulf must, like 
 the great Master, never speak to them without a 
 parable— i.e., a parallel, an analogy, a correspond- 
 ence, a comparison. Did you ever think of the fact 
 that, scientifically interpreted, it is not true that 
 God is a father, or Christ a son of God, or an elder 
 brother of Christians, or the latter children of 
 Abraham? These are merely forms taken from 
 earthly relationships, in order to image spiritual 
 relationships, which, except in imagination, could 
 not in any way become conceivable. This method of 
 conceiving of conditions, which may be great real- 
 
58 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 ities in the mental, ideal, spiritual realm, through 
 the representation of them in material form, is one 
 of the very first conditions of a religious concep- 
 tion. But what is the method? It is the artistic 
 method. Unless this could be used, science would 
 stop at the brink of the material with no means of 
 going farther, and religion begin at the brink of 
 the spiritual with no means of finding any other 
 starting-point. Art differs from both science and 
 religion in cultivating imagination instead of knowl- 
 ledge, as does the one, and instead of conduct, as does 
 the other. But notice, in addition to what has been 
 said of its being an aid to science, what an aid to 
 religion is the artistic habit of looking upon every 
 form in this material world as full of analogies and 
 correspondences, inspiring ^conceptions and ideals 
 spiritual in their nature, which need only the im- 
 pulse of conscience to direct them into the manifes- 
 tation of the spiritual in conduct. This habit of 
 mind is what art, when legitimately developed, al- 
 ways produces. It not only necessitates, as ap- 
 plied to mere form — and in this it differs from re- 
 ligion and resembles science — great accuracy in 
 observation, but also, as applied to that which the 
 form images — and in this it differs from science 
 and resembles religion — ^it necessitates the most 
 exact and minute fulfilment of the laws of analogy 
 and correspondence. These laws, which, because 
 difficult and sometimes impossible to detect, some 
 imagine not to exist, nevertheless do exist; and 
 they give, not only to general effects, but to every 
 minutest different element of tone, cadence, line, 
 and color, a different and definite meaning, tho 
 often greatly modified, of course, when an element 
 is differently combined with other elements. 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 59 
 
 This fact is exemplified in all the arts; and it is 
 that which makes an art-product, as distinguished 
 from a scientific, a combined effect of both form and 
 significance — of form, inasmuch as it fulfils certain 
 physical laws of harmony or proportion, which make 
 the effect agreeable or attractive to the physical eyes 
 or ears; and of significance, inasmuch as it fulfils 
 certain psychical laws, as of association or adapt- 
 ability, which cause it to symbolize some particular 
 thought or emotion. If, for instance, we ask an ar- 
 tist why he has drawn a figure gesturing with the 
 palm up instead of down, he cannot say, if giving 
 a correct answer, that he has done it for the sake 
 merely of the form, in case he means to use this 
 word in its legitimate sense as a derivation of the 
 old Latin word forma, an appearance. The one 
 gesture, if as well made, may appear as well as the 
 other. The difference between the two is wholly a 
 difference of meaning, of significance. This differ- 
 ence, moreover, is artistic. For merely scientific 
 purposes the one gesture, in such a case, might be 
 as satisfactory as the other. 
 
 That form in art as contrasted with form in 
 science is suggestive in the sense just explained, 
 we all, to a certain extent, recognize. When, in 
 music or poetry, we are discussing the laws of 
 rhythm, harmony, or versification, we are talking, 
 as the very titles of most books written upon these 
 topics indicate, about the science of these subjects. 
 WTien we are discussing the influence upon thought 
 or emotion of consecutive or conflicting themes or 
 scenes in an opera of Wagner or a drama of Shake- 
 speare, we are talking about that which, tho partly 
 conditioned upon the laws of science, nevertheless 
 transcends its possibilities. No matter how perfect 
 
60 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 rhythm or rhyme one may produce through ar- 
 rangements of words, the result is prose, not 
 poetry, unless the thought, instead of being pre- 
 sented directly, is represented, as we may say, in- 
 directly, so as to cause it to afford virtually an ar- 
 gument from analogy. Frequently, one judges of 
 poetic excellence by the degree in which the 
 thoughts or emotions could not be communicated 
 at all unless they were thus suggested rather than 
 stated; by the degree, therefore, in which their es- 
 sential character is subtle, intangible, invisible — in 
 short, spiritual. The same is true of sculpture, 
 architecture, and painting, tho the fact is not 
 equally acknowledged in each of these arts. No 
 one thinks of not judging of a statue by its signifi- 
 cance for the mind — i.e., by the subject represented 
 in its pose, gestures, and facial expression — fully 
 as much as by the mathematics of its proportions 
 or the technical skill of its chiselling. Large num- 
 bers of persons judge of a building in a similar way, 
 considering the embodiment of the mental concep- 
 tion in the general arrangements and appearances 
 causing them to be representative of the plan of 
 the whole, or illustrative of special contrivances of 
 construction in the parts, to be fully as important 
 as the character of the material or even the propor- 
 tion and harmony of the outlines. But, when we 
 come to pictures, altho apparently the rest of the 
 world, aside from those who are in art-circles, ac- 
 cept without question the view that has just lieen 
 presented, we find that many painters and many 
 critics influenced by them deny the importance of 
 considering mental and spiritual significance as dis- 
 tinguished from that which has to do with the ap- 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 61 
 
 peal of the form to the eye. Of course, if they deny 
 this, we are obliged to infer from what has been 
 said already that they do so because, in some de- 
 gree, they fail to perceive that art involves that 
 which transcends the possibilities of science. If, 
 with this suggestion as a clue, we examine the facts, 
 we shall find that those of whom we are speaking 
 are apt to be colorists, not draftsmen. Of late 
 years the development of coloring has necessarily 
 proceeded on scientific lines. This fact, in connec- 
 tion with the fact that color in nature is not fixt, 
 but changes with every shifting of the sun, may 
 furnish one reason why certain students of color 
 hold to the view that in art as in science the mean- 
 ing that a form conveys by way of exercising defi- 
 nite control over the imagination need not be spe- 
 cially considered. 
 
 But beyond this reason there seems to be another. 
 It may be suggested by the following: a friend of 
 mine, who sent his son to a school in England, told 
 me that the boy came back a " perfect fool." To 
 restore a rational action of mind, it became neces- 
 sary to resort to argument. " What do you roll 
 so for, when you walk? Are you drunk? What do 
 you stick out your elbows so for? Are your arm- 
 pits chapped? Do you think yourself drowning 
 every time you try to shake hands? " " Oh," said 
 the boy, " you Americans haven't any way of let- 
 ting people know that you have been in good so- 
 ciety." This answer may give us a hint of one 
 reason why the opinion of common people is not al- 
 ways accepted by those who wish to be thought un- 
 common. Thus put, it may seem an unworthy rea- 
 son, not consistent with earnestness and sincerity. 
 
62 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 Yet such, an inference would scarcely be justified. 
 The fact that people ordinarily judge of a picture 
 by its significance is a proof that the ordinary pic- 
 ture has significance. But the artist does not wish 
 to produce an ordinary picture. So he says : ' ' The 
 kind of picture that I produce need not have sig- 
 nificance. ' ' His motive is praiseworthy. He wishes 
 to attain distinction. But, intellectually, he starts 
 with an erroneous premise; and this, of course, 
 leads him to an erroneous conclusion. It is not sig- 
 nificance that makes a picture ordinary : this merely 
 makes it a picture rather than a product of deco- 
 rative art. That which makes it ordinary is the 
 form in which the significance is presented. To 
 change a theological essay into a " Paradise Lost," 
 it would not be necessary to drop the significance: 
 that could be kept; but it would be necessary to 
 change the form. 
 
 We may be sure that any theory true as applied 
 to one art is in analogy to that which is true of 
 every other art of the same class; and I, for one, 
 refuse to take from the art of painting its right to 
 be classed among the other higher arts. Why does 
 it rank with the humanities, and not with the merely 
 decorative arts? — why, but because its products so 
 distinctively give expression to human thought, — ^in 
 other words, so unmistakably suggest significance! 
 Some time ago I heard a story intended to repre- 
 sent the effect that should be produced by this art. 
 It was said that some one, in a French gallery, 
 noticed two painters approach a picture, and heard 
 them discuss the coloring of some fowls. After 
 about ten minutes they turned away; and, just as 
 they were doing so, one of them said to the other: 
 
ABT AND EDUCATION 63 
 
 " By the way, what was that picture about? Did 
 you notice? " " No," said the other. Now, while 
 this illustrates the kind of interest which not only 
 the painter, but the artist in any art — music, poetry, 
 sculpture, or architecture — necessarily comes to 
 have in the technic of his specialty, it does not illus- 
 trate all the interest which one should have who 
 has a true conception of what art can do for peo- 
 ple in general. It does not illustrate the sort of in- 
 terest that Angelo, Eaphael, and Murillo had in their 
 productions. A musician or poet who should have 
 no higher conception of the ends of art would pro- 
 duce nothing but jingle. In this the laws of rhythm 
 and harmony can be fulfilled as perfectly as in the 
 most inspired and sublime composition. Do I mean 
 to say, therefore, that every artist, when compos- 
 ing, must consciously think of significance and also 
 of form? Not necessarily. Many a child uncon- 
 sciously gestures in a form exactly indicative of his 
 meaning. But often, owing to acquired inflexibility 
 or unnaturalness, the same person, when grown, 
 unconsciously gestures in a form not indicative of 
 his meaning. What then? If he wish to be an 
 actor, he must study the art of gesture, and for a 
 time, at least, must produce the right gestures con- 
 sciously. And besides this, whether he produce 
 them consciously or unconsciously, in the degree in 
 which he is an artist in the best sense, he will know 
 what form he is using, and why he is using it. The 
 fact is that the human mind is incapable of taking 
 in any form without being informed of something 
 by it ; and it is the business of intelligent, not to say 
 honest, art to see to it that the information con- 
 veyed is not false, that the thing made corresponds 
 
64 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 to the thing meant. Otherwise, we all know or 
 ought to know the result. Who has not had ex- 
 perience of it? I have seen college dormitories 
 meant to be comfortable and healthy, but so planned 
 that not a ray of sunshine could get into more than 
 half of their study rooms; libraries meant to read 
 in, but with windows filled with stained glass that 
 would injure the eyes of every one who attempted 
 to read in them ; auditoriums meant to see and hear 
 in, yet crowded with stone pillars preventing large 
 numbers from doing either, or filled with rectan- 
 gular seats crowded together so that no one could 
 even remain in the place with comfort. These were 
 results of paying attention to form, and not to 
 significance, or that for which the form is intended. 
 Analogous effects are just as unfortunate in paint- 
 ing. I have been in court-rooms, supposed to be 
 decorated for the purpose — for this is all that deco- 
 ration of the kind is worth — of producing upon 
 those entering them an impression of justice; but 
 the only possible impression that could be pro- 
 duced was that the halls were to be devoted to per- 
 petual investigations into the mysteries of orgies 
 not conducted according to the conventions of Pu- 
 ritanic propriety: — women who ought to have been 
 in a warmer place, and whom it was impossible to 
 conceive of as winged creatures, doomed to eternal 
 roosting upon the cornice against the domed ceil- 
 ing. And what inspiration there might have been 
 for the common people, accustomed to gather there, 
 had the walls been filled with representations of 
 great acts of justice and humanity with which the 
 pages of history of almost every age and country 
 are crowded! Granted that some paintings like 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 65 
 
 tliis are flamboyantly panoramic. A great painter 
 can make them something else; and historic paint- 
 ings in themselves are as legitimate as historic 
 dramas. Granted that the literary tendency in 
 painting is sometimes misleading, tho not so mis- 
 leading as the deductions which artists and critics 
 without ability to think have drawn from the fact. 
 The paintings of which I speak now need not be 
 literary in any sense that makes them inartistic. 
 Indeed, a very important element in the suggestion 
 made, that which allies it to what has just been said 
 of architecture, is the fact that every elementary 
 line or color before as well as after being combined 
 into the general effect of a picture has in nature, 
 owing to its predominating uses and associations, 
 a meaning appropriate to itself; and an artist who 
 does not recognize that this is the case, no matter 
 how well he understands the science of line and 
 color, fails. " What kind of a painter is he? " I 
 asked the other day of an artist-friend, mention- 
 ing at the same time the name of one of whom all 
 of us probably know. " Why," replied the artist, 
 "he is what I call a vulgar painter." " Are you 
 getting ethical in your tastes? " I said. " Not 
 that," he answered, " but don't you remember that 
 picture of a little girl by Sargent in the National 
 Academy Exhibition last year? You couldn't 
 glance at it, in the most superficial way, without 
 recognizing at once that it was a child of high- 
 toned, probably intellectual, spiritually-minded, 
 aristocratic parentage and surroundings. Now, if 
 this man had painted that child, he could not have 
 kept from making her look like a coarse-haired, 
 hide-skioned peasant." It is easy to perceive that. 
 
66 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 if this criticism were justifiable — and tlie one, at 
 least, who made it must have thought that it was 
 — the fault would lie back of any scientific knowl- 
 edge of color or any technical facility in the use of 
 it. It would lie in the fact that the artist had never 
 learned that the round, ruddy form of the vital 
 temperament that blossoms amid the breeze and 
 sunshine of the open field has a very different 
 significance from the more complex and delicate 
 curves and colors that appear where the nervous 
 temperament is trained up behind the sheltering 
 window-panes of the study. An artist who believes 
 in significance merely enough to recognize the ne- 
 cessity of representing it in some way can, with a 
 very few thrusts of his knife, to say nothing of his 
 brush, at one and the same time relieve the inflam- 
 mation of chapped cheeks, and inject into the veins 
 some of the blue blood of aristocracy. 
 
 As intimated a moment ago, those who claim 
 that the highest quality of art can be produced 
 without regard to significance are conceiving of 
 art as if it involved exclusively that which is in 
 the domain of science. Yes, it may be answered; 
 but are not those who insist upon the requirement 
 of significance, especially significance of an ele- 
 vated character, conceiving of art as involving that 
 which is in the domain of religion? Certainly they 
 are, yet not as involving this exclusively. Art in- 
 cludes something that pertains to the domain of 
 science, and also something that pertains to the do- 
 main of religion. When an artist depicts nature 
 just as it is, if there be any such thing as natural 
 religion, he produces upon the mind something of 
 the effect of natural religion. If he depict human- 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 67 
 
 ity, he produces — if there be any such thing — some- 
 thing of the sympathetic effect of social religion. 
 And in both cases he adds to the effect the influ- 
 ence which each has had upon his own character, 
 and produces, if he have any, something of the 
 effect of personal religion. Art combines the in- 
 fluences of God in nature, God in humanity, and 
 God in the individual. It makes an appeal that is 
 natural, sympathetic, and personal; but it does all 
 this in a way that seems divine, because the factors 
 of representation are reproductions of the divine 
 handiwork. As applied to literature, for instance, 
 it is a fact that, when spiritual discernment and 
 brotherly charity that judge by faith that is deeper 
 than creeds, and by motives that lie nearer to the 
 heart than actions, fulfil their missions of guid- 
 ance and enlightenment for their age, the very 
 same ideas which, if stated in plain prose, would 
 send their writers to ostracism or the stake, are 
 accepted and approved, if, through the suggestive 
 methods of art, they are represented in what may 
 be called the divine terms of nature. What would 
 have become of Dante, in his age, if he had pro- 
 claimed that a pope could be kept in hell or a pagan 
 welcomed in Paradise? Yet, when he pictured both 
 conditions in his great poem, how many persecuted 
 him merely because of that? We may apply the 
 same principle to any form of literary art. It is 
 less the influence of the pulpit than of the novel 
 that in our own land, within the memory of some 
 still living, has not only freed the slave and un- 
 frocked the aristocrat, but has snatched the stand- 
 ards of sectarianism from the hands of hypocrites 
 and bigots, and restored for all the Church the one 
 
68 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 standard of Constantine, and that one not held up 
 by the hands of man, but flaming in the sky. So with 
 the other arts. Even in the rhythm and harmony of 
 music, tho representing laws almost too subtle for 
 our comprehension, there is something that tends 
 to make throb in unison not only every pulse, but 
 every protoplasmic fiber whose deep roots are in the. 
 soul. Under the pediment of the temple, the arches 
 of the cathedral, the dome of the mosque, always, 
 too, in the degree in which these are great works of 
 art, the predominating impression is that of the 
 universal fatherhood of God, which all alike rep- 
 resent. Nor is there a statue or a painting which 
 depicts natural life, especially human life, as we 
 are accustomed in our own day to see it — yet notice 
 that this argument could not apply, even remotely, 
 to anything approaching deformity or vulgarity — 
 but every curve or color in it seems to frame at 
 times the soul of one to be loved, not by another, 
 but by ourselves; and, so far as Providence sends 
 spiritual development through imparting a sense 
 of sympathy with friend, brother, sister, father, 
 mother, wife, or ehUd, there, in the presence of art, 
 that development for a while is experienced. 
 
 In fact, in every department of art, if only our 
 powers of apprehension were sufficiently subtle, 
 such influences might be perceived in the aspects 
 of great natural forces streaming up from the sur- 
 face of the globe through the senses of those in- 
 habiting it, and radiating into a spiritual halo 
 stretching starward above every realm and age 
 that the world whirls into sight, as it goes spinning 
 onward. 
 
 But enough. The conception suggesting this 
 
ART AND EDUCATION 69 
 
 paper has been sufficiently unfolded, if it have been 
 made clear in what sense it is true that esthetic 
 studies, among which one may include anything 
 that has to do with elocution, poetry, music, draw- 
 ing, painting, modeling, building, or furnishing, 
 whether we consider their influence upon the ar- 
 tist or upon the patron of art, are needed, in order 
 to connect and complete the results of education 
 as developed through science alone or through re- 
 ligion alone. These studies can do for our minds 
 what science cannot,t crowning its work with the 
 halo of imagination 'and lighting its path to dis- 
 covery. They can do for us what religion cannot, 
 grounding its conceptions upon accuracy of obser- 
 vation and keeping them true to facts. Art unites 
 the separated intellectual influence of the two 
 other spheres. It can not only hold the mirror up 
 to nature, but it can make all nature a mirror, and 
 hold it up to the heavens. In times of intellectual 
 and spiritual storm and stress, when night is above 
 and waves below and winds behind and breakers 
 ahead, the voice of art can sometimes speak peace 
 to conflicting elements, and bring a great calm; 
 and then, in the blue at our feet, we can see not 
 only a little of the beauty of a little of the surface 
 of the little star in which we live, but something 
 also of the grandeur of all the stars of all the uni- 
 verse. 
 
AET AND MORALS* 
 
 The huinan mind is a unity, and all its tenden- " 
 cies act conjointly. Wlien we ascribe one expres- 
 sion in thought or deed to good judgment, a second 
 to strong imagination, and a third to shrewd self- 
 interest, we seldom mean to attribute it to any one 
 of the three exclusively; but only mainly. We 
 know that the most logical argument is colored, 
 more or less, by the arguer's temperament and in- 
 tention; that the most enthusiastic speculation is 
 not entirely free from suggestions of both convic- 
 tion and purpose; and that the most exacting de- 
 mand has in it not a little of both calculation and 
 feeling. It is the same with the departments of 
 outward activity through which one mind endeav- 
 ors to influence other minds. Theoretically, our 
 various definitions can separate philosophy, science 
 and religion; but, when we come to examine any 
 one system of either, we recognize that all are con- 
 nected. The quality of a man's philosophic concep- 
 tions depends as much on what has been his knowl- 
 edge and experience in the spheres of science and 
 religion, as does the quality of waters in a lake on 
 what has been that of the springs from which they 
 flow. The same analogy holds good with reference 
 to his scientific and religious conceptions. For this 
 
 * Enlarged from parts of an address prepared by request for the 
 first regular meeting of the National Society of the Fine Arts at 
 Washington, D. C, in November, 1905. 
 
ART AND MORALS 71 
 
 reason, the more knowledge and experience that a 
 man has had in all three of these spheres, the more 
 accurate and comprehensive — in short the greater — 
 will be his achievements in the one sphere to which 
 he mainly devotes his attention. 
 
 It is this principle that should be applied when 
 considering the connection between art and mo- 
 rality. There is no doubt that the two differ. Art 
 is one thing, and morality is another thing. A 
 statue, a picture, a drama, or a dance, may be im- 
 moral in its influence, and yet artistic. But, in this 
 case, it is seldom artistic in every one of its fea- 
 tures. If it were, people would not speak of it, as 
 some invariably do, when referring to products of 
 this character, as " lacking in good taste." Art, as 
 a pleasurable result, may appeal in a pleasurable 
 way to a man's whole nature; and nothing can do 
 this that, in anydegree, shocks and repels him because 
 recognizing it to have an impure and harmful influ- 
 ence upon thought, feeling or conduct. In this fact, 
 indeed, lies the difference in effect between what 
 men consider the partly artistic and what they term 
 the completely beautiful. The artistic may result 
 from any isolated proof of craftsmanship. Not so 
 with the beautiful. It is general in its effects, and 
 these transcend those of the craftsman. The light 
 that it possesses is like that of a halo. It illumines 
 everything of which it forms a part, its influence on 
 the mind extending to the whole mental environment, 
 giving suggestions to imagination, stimulus to 
 aspiration, and filling every allied department and 
 recess of energy with that subtle force which men 
 attribute to inspiration. It is merely in accord- 
 ance with a law of nature, therefore, that, as a fact, 
 
72 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 all sucli statues, pictures, poems, buildings of past 
 ages as are universally considered to be great con- 
 form to the laws of ethics almost as fully as to the 
 laws of esthetics, — in other words, that one test of 
 greatness in art has always been its influence upon 
 morals. Why should this not have been the case? 
 It is a test universally applied to everything else of 
 a kindred nature, whether social, political or philo- 
 sophical. Besides this, it is natural to suppose that 
 the effects upon one another of two departments 
 of activity should be reciprocal; and everybody 
 acknowledges that, as a rule, the quality of mo- 
 rality is improved by that which comes from art. 
 We respect a moral man who is a boor; but when 
 there is enough of esthetics in him to make him 
 also a gentleman, we admire him, and strive to 
 imitate him. We tolerate earnest reformers who, 
 in rowdy mobs boisterously insult all who differ 
 from them; but most of us connect ourselves with 
 such leaders only as do their work " decently and 
 in order," in places where they have more or less 
 of refinement in their surroundings. Why cannot 
 this rule be reversed, and art be bettered by its 
 moral quality? 
 
 To answer this question in the aflfirmative does 
 not necessitate our holding that art can accomplish 
 all its ends by being moral, or that morality can 
 accomplish all its ends by being artistic. But it 
 does necessitate recognizing that both, in accom- 
 plishing their highest end, can and should cooper- 
 ate; and that, when they do this, both exert im- 
 portant and salutary effects upon one another. It 
 may seem strange that any should doubt that this 
 latter is the case. Nevertheless, many have not 
 
ABT AND MORALS 73 
 
 only doubted it, but argued strenuously that it is 
 not tbe case. For instance, it has been seriously 
 maintained by certain writers that the develop- 
 ment of art in a nation is contemporaneous with its 
 intellectual and political, but especially with its 
 social and moral, decline. At first thought, too, 
 this theory has seemed well founded. Tho not true 
 of poetry, the fine arts never reveal their full pos- 
 sibilities in any land, until many individuals have 
 come to have sufficient wealth and leisure to enable 
 them to become patrons or producers of that 
 which is ornamental as well as useful. Nor does 
 decline come to a nation until exactly the same con- 
 ditions of wealth and leisure have caused many to 
 care more for luxury than for right living. There 
 is, therefore, a certain connection between artistic 
 development and national decline. 
 
 The connection, however, is not that of cause and 
 effect, but merely of coincidence. Indeed, consid- 
 ered in this light only, a more careful study of his- 
 tory will reveal that the connection is by no means 
 as close or inevitable as is sometimes represented. 
 As a fact, centuries elapsed between the age of 
 Pericles and the intellectual and political decline of 
 ancient Greece. Eome survived by almost as long 
 a time her most flourishing period of architecture 
 and sculpture. Other agencies than those of art 
 could be shown to underlie the partial decline of 
 Italy and Spain between the Seventeenth and 
 Nineteenth Centuries; and there is no indisputable 
 proof of any deterioration whatever in any of the 
 other nations of Europe as a consequence of their 
 artistic activity during the last three centuries. 
 
 But besides the teachings of history those of ex- 
 
74 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 perience are sometimes invoked in order to bear 
 witness against tlie ethical influence of art. Argu- 
 ments thus presented usually seem to owe their 
 force to the fact that art has many unintelligent 
 advocates and adherents. Like other things, it 
 needs sometimes to be saved from its friends. For 
 instance, there was the lady from Chicago, who, 
 some years ago, undertook to initiate me into 
 the secrets of art-appreciation. Expressing, what 
 was, apparently, her whole conception of the sub- 
 ject, and of its requirements, she assured me that 
 she and her daughters had discovered none of this 
 appreciation in themselves until they had traveled 
 in Europe. " After that," she said, " we became 
 accustomed, you know, to seeing things without 
 drapery." I asked her if she were aware that the 
 Japanese as a people were probably the most appre- 
 ciative of art of any in the world. She said that 
 she had heard so. Then I asked her if she had also 
 heard that the kind of effects of which she was 
 speaking were practically unknown to the higher 
 art of Japan; and having performed that primal 
 duty of every one, where he finds a superstition 
 floating around — to fling at it the weightiest ele- 
 ment of doubt that comes handy — I left her. It is 
 no one's business, in this world, to pound away 
 with arguments until he has exhausted his own 
 breath, or benumbed the brain of the one who dif- 
 fers from him. It is his business to testify to the 
 truth; and then to have faith enough in it and in 
 God to leave it to do its own perfect work. The 
 Japanese have so high a conception of the distinct- 
 ively intellectual and spiritual missions of art, that, 
 as if by mutual agreement, they eliminate from 
 
ART AND MORALS 75 
 
 such, spheres of representation as are intended to 
 have high rank anything not supposed to be dis- 
 tinctively suggestive of this mission, — even tho the 
 customs of their country — differing in this regard 
 from those of our own — would often seem to justify 
 a contrary course. 
 
 These facts ought not to be without their lessons 
 for us. There is at least one country in which the 
 esthetic and the ethic coincide. Products in our 
 country in which, according to the judgment of 
 people of good taste, they do not coincide — whether 
 novels, plays, statues or paintings — could be shown 
 — most of them at least, and possibly all of them — 
 to be as inartistic as they are inappropriate. Con- 
 sider only one aspect of the subject: plays and 
 novels that make us spend hours with people such 
 as we never meet, or meet only to avoid; and stat- 
 ues and pictures equally objectionable, do not rep- 
 resent for us real life as we know it, and cannot 
 appeal, therefore, to our sympathies as art should. 
 Or consider another aspect: there is the statue of 
 Washington that for many years has been facing 
 the east front of the National Capitol.* It repre- 
 sents the Father of his Country in heroic size, 
 seated unclothed, save for a sheet thrown over the 
 lower part of his body. The statue is not men- 
 tioned here because, in any sense, it can be consid- 
 ered immoral. It is too stupid for that. No one 
 who knows the Devil has ever doubted his intelli- 
 gence. But while not immoral, it is easy to see that 
 the extreme nudity which is sometimes considered 
 
 * How much or how little this criticism contributed to the action 
 which has followed I do not know. But since the address including 
 it was delivered some one in authority has given the order which 
 has removed the statue to the new National Museum. 
 
76 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 ethically objectionable migbt be developed from tbe 
 tendency which the statue manifests. The impor- 
 tant fact to observe in connection with it is that, 
 long before this tendency could become ethically 
 objectionable, it would become esthetieally so. The 
 statue is not, as is all true art, a representation of 
 nature. It is not a representation of life natural 
 to a human being with the characteristics of Wash- 
 ington. No one ever saw him. m the condition de- 
 picted, except, possibly, his valet. The whole con- 
 ception is an imitation, and an affected imitation, 
 conceived by a miud that has been brought into 
 contact with the form but not with the spirit of 
 classic sculpture. Take again a coat-of-arms pre- 
 pared, some years ago, to be carved ia stone and 
 placed in the fagade of the University Club of New 
 York City. The general conception of the one who 
 planned this could scarcely be bettered, — an altar 
 of friendship with a figure of a young man on either 
 side of it. How, with such a conception, any per- 
 son of artistic instincts could have faUed in deter- 
 mining the character that should have been given 
 these figures, is inconceivable. Had he placed a 
 student wearing an academic mortar-board and 
 gown on one side, and, on the other, a student 
 garbed in the most picturesque of our athletic suits, 
 the future Chinaman, digging among the ruins of 
 New York, forty generations hence, and finding the 
 whole, might have been able from it to form a toler- 
 ably fair conception of the two main tendencies of 
 our university life. But what did the artist do? 
 He put a nude figure on either side wrapt about 
 in places by what he may have meant for a toga, 
 but which looked, and necessarily looked to those 
 
ART AND MORALS 77 
 
 not accustomed to togas, like a towel. Either toga 
 or towel would have been appropriate in Eoman 
 art. Bathing in public was a feature of their form 
 of civilization. But I know of few colleges in this 
 country that have swimming-tanks. Even in these 
 swimming is never the most prominent of the col- 
 lege exercises ; and so far as most of us are aware, 
 people in general never assemble to see the stu- 
 dents make an exhibition of wiping themselves. 
 Here, again, we can see, at the very beginning of 
 what might become contrary to the principles of 
 ethics, that we already have what is clearly con- 
 trary to those of esthetics. 
 
 How is it now with reference to literature, espe- 
 cially to that phase of it often considered, and al- 
 ways claiming to be, the most distinctively artistic, 
 — the phase that it assumes in the drama? Is there 
 any necessary connection between good morals and 
 the theater? Certain facts, as well as certain the- 
 ories held by critics of influence, would seem to in- 
 dicate that there is not. Eecall the number of 
 severe criticisms that have appeared in recent pe- 
 riodicals directed against the injurious influence of 
 some of our modern plays. Notice, too, a passage 
 like the following from the February number for 
 1910 of " Current Literature." The passage 
 might be supposed to be ironical ; but it is intended 
 to be serious: " Our dramatic conscience, "(?) so it 
 says, " is awakening. We are no longer satisfied 
 with the vulgar sentimental dramatic pabulum of 
 our fathers. We demand life ' ' — by which is meant, 
 as will be shown before this quotation is ended, a 
 form of life with which not one in a hundred, pos- 
 sibly not in five hundred, ever comes in contact — 
 
78 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 " and we get it. The grip of the American play- 
 wright on the larger "(?) " problems of our exist- 
 ence and on all existence, is tightening. Three 
 recent plays by Americans afford proof that the 
 American public appreciates genius divorced from 
 convention," i. e. from the purity of it, — a poor rea- 
 son for commending a divorce from anything ! ' ' Not 
 even continental critics would dare to call these 
 plays conventional or prudish. Illicit love rela- 
 tions are intrepidly revealed by the authors. Fitch 
 introduces the note of incest; rape stalks through 
 Sheldon's remarkable play; and Belasco presents 
 himself as an advocate of free-love. . . . Not many 
 years ago these subjects were tabooed; but it seems 
 that, of late, the social " — by which is apparently 
 meant the morbid — " curiosity of America has been 
 stirred. The dramatist, quick to perceive the 
 change in the popular temper, seizes the opportu- 
 nity of the moment. ' The dawn of the new social 
 drama in America,' exclaims "William Marley in 
 the ' Twentieth Century,' ' has already passed; it 
 is morning here; the day of its fulfilment has be- 
 gun.' " This quotation indicates a conception of 
 art that involves indifference to the requirements 
 of morality if not opposition to them. 
 
 But is such a conception justified? Before at- 
 tempting to answer this question, the author looked 
 over a number of conmiunications to a newspaper 
 that had solicited them in which various writers 
 had exprest their opinions concerning what may 
 or may not be supposed to be immoral in dra- 
 matic representation; and he found that what had 
 seemed to be true of the writer of this quota- 
 tion seemed to be true as well of all the writers of 
 
ART AND MORALS 79 
 
 these communications; namely, that, so far as they 
 manifested indifference to the requirements of mo- 
 rality, they manifested also more or less ignorance 
 with reference to the requirements of art. Invari- 
 ably these writers seemed to imagine that they had 
 compassed the whole field of artistic requirement 
 when they had applied, in order to determine what 
 in art is admissible, one or both of two criterions. 
 The first was that the product should be true to 
 life; and the second that it should point a moral, 
 meaning, of course, a good moral. It hardly seems 
 necessary to argue that both criterions, accurate so 
 far as they go, are inadequate as applied to all the 
 conditions. Of course the word art may be broadly 
 ascribed to anything that is made, especially by 
 way of imitation; and, therefore, the term artistic 
 may properly designate any product of this kind. 
 But the word has also a more limited meaning, — 
 the meaning that we all recognize when found in 
 the terms the fine arts, or les beaux arts. When this 
 is its meaning, the objects that art imitates must 
 be, predominantly at least — as already intimated 
 on page 71 — beautiful and the product itself must 
 introduce ugliness, or its concomitant, impurity, 
 only subordinately ; by way, so to speak, of con- 
 trast, by way of shading that offsets brightness. A 
 good deal that is true to life is not true to the beau- 
 tiful in life ; and, therefore, contrary to the opinion 
 of these writers, is philosophically out of place in 
 the highest art. Of course, this principle, if ap- 
 plied, would rule out of the highest rank a number 
 of our modern plays — some of those by Ibsen, Su- 
 dermann, Hauptmann, and d'Annunzio. If so, they 
 ought to be ruled out. The principle is one that 
 
80 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 no one who thinks correctly can fail to accept ; anti, 
 as proved by the survival of interest in Greek art, 
 it is the only principle that all people, at all times, 
 can be expected to accept. As for the other crite- 
 rion, namely, that art should point a moral, this, 
 too, is accurate so far as it goes ; and yet art, imita- 
 tive art, must do more than point a moral. Its na- 
 ture is that of representation, not reasoning; it 
 presents a picture to be perceived, not a problem 
 to be solved; and the representation, the picture, 
 not the reasoning or the solution, is that in it which 
 is of supreme importance. 
 
 To indicate the practical bearings of these dis- 
 tinctions, one of the correspondents of these news- 
 papers justifies a certain play on the ground that it 
 is a truthful representation of what takes place in 
 Paris at night. It is easy enough to perceive that 
 this ground would justify very much more than, 
 probably, even he — or she, I believe it was — would 
 think it proper to represent. Another writer jus- 
 tifies any amount of indecent portrayal, in case the 
 agent of it comes, at last, to grief, so to speak ; and, 
 through doing this, points a moral. If we apply 
 either of these conceptions to real life, and ask 
 what would be the result of one's actually hearing 
 or seeing the sort of things that such arguments 
 are supposed to justify, we shall find exactly what 
 may be. expected to be the result when the same are 
 imitated on the stage ; for, during the time of a the- 
 atric performance the stage represents real life. 
 Every thoughtful mind will accept the statement 
 that not one of us would want his boys or girls to 
 hear or to see what is taking place by night in the 
 worst parts of Paris, merely, forsooth, because 
 
ART AND MORALS 81 
 
 such things, as an actual fact, do take place. Nor 
 do we think it safe for them to become familiar with 
 the words and actions of drunkards, gamblers, or 
 prostitutes merely because the same streets on 
 which these are found are filled with older persons 
 of the same sort who can teach an unmistakable 
 moral because revealing through their own condi- 
 tions the ruinous results in later life of their form 
 of dissipation. The fact is that such results, tho 
 clearly perceived, frequently produce little or no 
 beneficial effect. They do not deter people who 
 actually have bad associates from following bad 
 examples. This is so because it is a law of our na- 
 ture — and all that we know about the communica- 
 tion of forms of morals or of religion proves ab- 
 solutely that it is a law of our nature — that the 
 sayings and scenes by which we are surrounded 
 produce a much greater effect upon our conduct 
 than do any deductions with reference to them that 
 we may draw in our own minds. This is the prin- 
 ciple that a thinker is obliged to apply to theatric 
 performances. It is the language, the picture of 
 life — in short, the play that is the thing of chief im- 
 portance — this wholly irrespective of any possible 
 moral that thinking can draw from it. One cannot 
 refrain from adding, too, that much of this talk 
 about a moral is the flimsiest sort of cant — a mere 
 subterfuge to excuse indecent portrayals which it 
 is supposed — mistakenly, let us hope — will draw a 
 large audience of the purulently curious. As a 
 fact, few indecent plays point an important or even 
 a true moral. They often fail to do this, even when 
 to do so would involve merely that fidelity to na- 
 ture of which their advocates hypocritically boast. 
 
82 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 For instance, one play, greatly praised during this 
 last season, presents among its characters a prosti- 
 tute who, after six or more years in her profession, 
 appears more hilarious and successful than ever. 
 In real life, she would have become either degraded 
 in position, or hardened in disposition, — probably 
 both. Another play pictures a kind of debased 
 life which, tho meeting with partial failure, by no 
 means seems to close the door of opportunity; and 
 the lesson quite likely to be inculcated is that, on 
 the whole, it may be a safe sort of life to try. Still 
 another play shows us a reformer who spends fif- 
 teen minutes — and this apparently is the scene for 
 which the whole play was written, and is acted — in 
 trying to seduce the wife of a man whom he is anx- 
 ious to influence for good, after which he goes forth 
 and immediately meets with a heroic death. 
 
 All this merely proves, some one may think, that 
 the influence of this form of art is debasing; and 
 that the way to put an end to the influence is to put 
 an end to the art. The trouble with such a conclu- 
 sion — and it is a trouble common to most conclu- 
 sions that uphold extreme prohibition of any kind 
 — ^is that life is something to which the conditions 
 of logic can seldom be rigidly applied. The results 
 of logic are reached by tracing thought to some sin- 
 gle indisputable premiss. The results of life are 
 traceable to a large variety of conditions, not one 
 of which can be premised to be acting singly, even if 
 indisputably. Accordingly, as applied to action, a 
 line of thought that seems to lead to a certain con- 
 clusion may not be that which forms a legitimate 
 sequence for all the facts. In the conclusion just 
 mentioned, the action suggested is not possible of 
 
A^T AND MORALS 83 
 
 practical accomplislunent. Like marriage and re- 
 ligion, dramatic art is one of those human activi- 
 ties to which, as things are, no one can put an end; 
 and, at certain periods — as, for instance, at the 
 time of the morality plays — its influence has been 
 just the contrary of debasing. What is needed is 
 an endeavor not to abolish but to correct; and, so 
 far as the nature of art has been misunderstood, 
 a first step in doing this must be taken by giving 
 people more accurate conceptions with reference to 
 what art really requires. Making men intelligent 
 does not always make them moral ; but, at times, it 
 goes a long way in this direction. There are, to-day, 
 many unintelligent critics, authors and managers 
 who believe that beauty of effect, and a conscious- 
 ness of exalting associations with saneness, gentle- 
 ness, purity, integrity, ideality, renunciation, self- 
 sacrifice, and inspirational devotion to lofty aims, 
 as depicted on the stage, have nothing to do with art 
 or artistic success. Such people need enlighten- 
 ment. A few months since, page after page in the 
 London newspapers, contained accounts of a par- 
 liamentary investigation undertaken to determine 
 whether or not a government-censorship of plays 
 — exercised by an official who for years has been 
 charged with the duty of reading and licensing new 
 dramas — should be continued. Without exception, 
 it is said, the managers of the London theaters de- 
 clared in favor of continuing it. One of their ex- 
 prest reasons for doing this, was that, because of 
 not having such censorship, the theaters of the con- 
 tinent—especially of France— had so degenerated 
 that they were no longer attended by the self-re- 
 specting upper middle classes who, in all countries, 
 
84 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 naturally furnish tlie theater's chief patrons. The 
 managers thus gave expression to a conviction that, 
 in the long run, pure plays and playhouses in 
 which such plays only are produced are the most 
 likely to be successful. Quite a number of their 
 profession in our own country seem to have ar- 
 rived at a similar conclusion. One of whom I know 
 has, for several seasons, been conducting with such 
 strict propriety a theater situated where for years 
 it was unsuccessful that it is now crowded to the 
 doors every evening. Eeally, this is only what 
 might be expected. The majority of people want 
 innocent amusement, — for their families, if not for 
 themselves. After a play has been heard, all the 
 harm, whatever it may be, has been done. The sole 
 assurance that they can get the sort of a perform- 
 ance that they want, must be furnished by what 
 they know of the character and taste of the man- 
 ager. If he be a man who seems to them to be 
 willing to use the people's legitimate desire for 
 recreation in order to debase and degrade them, 
 they will, very soon, come to consider him a man 
 who has a right to attract the world's attention 
 only so far as it has been taught to despise and re- 
 pudiate him. Nor will it make any practical differ- 
 ence to them whether, in coming to this conclusion, 
 they consider him in the light merely of an off- 
 scouring of the slums, too coarse-grained and gross 
 in his nature to be able to distinguish between the 
 beautiful and the beastly, or in the light of the vil- 
 lain of the bar-room who intentionally pours what 
 he knows to be poison into a glass for which an 
 exhausted fellow-being has paid, supposing that it 
 will afford him needed stimulus. In both cases, the 
 
ART AND MORALS 85 
 
 practical effect of his action will be the same. So, 
 too, ought to be the practical remedy that is ap- 
 plied to him. Greater intelligence with reference 
 to the requirements of art would give the man 
 of the one character the greater culture and re- 
 finement that he needs, and also the man of the 
 other character the greater caution and discretion. 
 Wherever there is anything human there, too, ex- 
 ists the possibility of immorality. Art is intensely 
 human. But just as the best type of humanity is 
 distinctly moral : so it is with the best type of art. 
 To this rule, dramatic art furnishes no exception. 
 Nor, for a similar reason, does that of the romance 
 or the novel. 
 
 Are there any ethical relations of architecture: 
 and if so, are moral principles exemplified in it? 
 Both questions can be answered in the affirmative. 
 Consider, for instance, the modern skyscraper, — the 
 apartment house, hotel, or office building contain- 
 ing twenty or thirty stories. Sociologists point out 
 how objectionable it is morally, as used in resi- 
 dence districts, either for irrepressible children who 
 need more companions out of doors, or for dis- 
 affected parents who need fewer of them indoors; 
 and how objectionable physically, as used in busi- 
 ness districts, because depriving thousands of sun- 
 light and fresh air, and increasing the nervous 
 strain of life by crowding streets and streetcars, 
 and adding to the labors of business, the greater 
 labor of trying to get in safety, comfort, and health, 
 despite lungs almost suffocated, to and from one's 
 home. But, long before the sociologist had thought 
 of these results, the artist had realized the beauty 
 of a uniform skyline, as in the streets of Paris and 
 
86 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 the Court of Honor at the Chicago Exposition ; and 
 had recognized as well the inexcusable lessening in 
 value, because of depreciation in effectiveness, of 
 every building that another adjoining it is allowed 
 to overtop. So one might go on and give to the prin- 
 ciple thus illustrated almost universal applicability. 
 Ethics has its source in conscience, and applies 
 mainly to conduct; and esthetics has its source in 
 feeling, and applies mainly to sentiment. But not 
 only in art; — ^in every relationship of life, even in 
 individual character, both should be operative, and, 
 when this is the case, they usually operate so as to 
 produce the same result. If either be lacking I am 
 not sure which, by being absent — at least so far as 
 concerns external expression — causes the greater 
 loss to character. I am not sure, for instance, 
 which would best restrain an inexperienced and in- 
 nocent mind from gross forms of self-indulgence, 
 — a strong conscience or refined feeling, and so 
 through the whole gamut of moral possibilities. 
 I am not sure that a man, whose poverty of adjec- 
 tives causes him to try invariably with a single and 
 the same syllable to dam the current of every in- 
 fluence opposing his own whims and wishes, is not 
 even more vulgar than he is vicious. So with other 
 evil tendencies. It is said that in Japan good taste 
 alone keeps the rich from seeming to humiliate 
 their poorer neighbors by superfluous ostentation; 
 and that to some such feeling must be attributed 
 also that social movement — almost impossible to 
 conceive of as taking place in London or in New 
 York — ^which, twenty-five years ago, caused one 
 class of the Japanese aristocracy to surrender vol- 
 untarily for the good of their coxmtry, their posi- 
 
ART AND MORALS 87 
 
 tion, prerogatives and privileges, — one of whicli 
 was the sole right to carry weapons. 
 
 There is considerable justification, indeed, for 
 those who argue that art has not only a moral, but 
 a distinctively religious influence.* This can be 
 acknowledged without one's conceding that art and 
 religon are, in any sense, the same, or have the 
 same aims. There is no gain to an intelligent view 
 of life in supposing this. The one who does so, 
 and talks about art as his religion, is apt to convey 
 the impression that he is governed by sentiment 
 if not by sentimentality, which two respectively, 
 sentiment and sentimentality, seem to represent 
 the comparative and superlative degrees in which 
 thought in this world is removed from sense. At 
 least, if not misformed, such a man might be said 
 to be misinformed. There is one fundamental dif- 
 ference between a religious and an artistic effect, 
 which all recognize subconsciously, and, therefore, 
 ought to acknowledge consciously. Eeligious ef- 
 fects are seldom produced by manifestations clearly 
 recognized to be copies or imitations of mere ex- 
 ternal forms. A Christian man through his con- 
 duct, and a church through its service, may repre- 
 sent the Christian life, but the moment that the 
 representative element in either is emphasized, the 
 moment that it is brought to our attention that re- 
 
 *Iii the old, and by no means beautiful chapel at Princeton, the 
 faculty were never able to repress entirely certain irreverent forms of 
 disturbance, — like keeping step with a Freshman when he walked to 
 his seat. When the time came to move into the new Marquand Chapel, 
 some one suggested, in a meeting of the faculty, that the students be 
 particularly requested and warned not to continue these practices. 
 After discussion, hovrever, it was decided to postpone action until 
 something had been done to necessitate it. Nothing ever did neces- 
 sitate it. Every tendency to disorder was, apparently, completely sup- 
 pressed by a mere change to a more esthetic environment. 
 
88 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 ligious actions, attitudes or facial and vocal expres- 
 sions are assumed for the purpose of representing, 
 they suggest to us a Pharisee, if not a hypocrite. 
 With art it is the opposite. Its object is to repre- 
 sent: and the actor upon the stage, or the imitator 
 of real life, as delineated in the drama or the novel, 
 or depicted in the picture or the stature, awakens 
 our approval in the exact degree of the unmistak- 
 ably representative character of his performance. 
 
 Let it not be supposed, however, that, because 
 art emphasizes representation, it is, for this rea- 
 son, to be disesteemed. In doing what it does, it 
 is merely contiuuiag to exert, in a way uniquely 
 adapted to human understanding, the same kind 
 of influence that is exerted upon thought by every 
 sight and sound of external nature. The novel, 
 the drama, the painting, the statue all report, with 
 more or less interpretative additions, that which 
 keen observers have been able to perceive, and to 
 reproduce. The legitimate effect of their work is 
 to enlarge the experience of others who have not had 
 the same opportunity, or the same ability to avaU 
 themselves of it, that they themselves have had. 
 Whoever enlarges another's experience imparts not 
 only information, but, with it, something of that 
 wisdom which expresses itself in intelligent action. 
 Of course much depends, as has already been in- 
 timated, upon the artist through whose medium- 
 ship the wider experience has been imparted. He 
 is like a showman who may throw upon a screen 
 whatever sort of picture he may select. At the 
 same time, in making his selection, he can scarcely 
 fail to be influenced by another fact. It is this, — 
 that only in the degree in which men conceive that 
 
ART AND MORALS 89 
 
 his thought when assuming form in art is in har- 
 mony with thought when assuming form in nature, 
 do they conceive him to be influenced by the spirit 
 in nature to such an extent as to term him inspired. 
 Is there any great artist who does not wish to have 
 his work considered to be of this character? Or, 
 if an artist be not great, does he not try, at least, 
 to imitate those who are so, and prefer to be con- 
 sidered of their class? If both these questions can 
 be answered in the affirmative, then it must be true 
 that, practically, in the majority of cases, the forces 
 that are working in nature, as most of us believe, 
 for the enlightenment and uplifting of man will 
 continue to be influential in directing toward the 
 same ends the developments of art. 
 
THE AETISTIC VERSUS THE SCIENTIFIC 
 
 CONCEPTION IN EDUCATIONAL 
 
 METHODS * 
 
 " The primal duties shine aloft like stars," 
 
 says Wordsworth. The same may be said of the 
 primal principles of education. But sunlight by day 
 as well as clouds by night may keep the stars from 
 being visible ; and some of that which is important 
 in education may be obscured in enlightened as well 
 as in dark ages. Breadth of outlook does not al- 
 ways insure a sharp lookout. Many a man stumbles 
 because he fails to feel the need of keeping his eyes 
 upon the pathway. To keep them upon this, when 
 moving forward with others, is absolutely impera- 
 tive in only the leader. Those behind him may ad- 
 vance satisfactorily to themselves by merely fol- 
 lowing his motions, tho, occasionally, from their 
 point of view, taking that which to him is hiuder- 
 most for the foremost, that which to him is inci- 
 dental for the essential. Another element also en- 
 ters into the result. Whatever is primary in any 
 subject should usually be perceptible to all. Why 
 need the leader in thought point it out? Why need 
 he bid men consider anything except his own contri- 
 bution? But while doing so, at the same time ig- 
 noring other considerations, he may consciously or 
 unconsciously emphasize it too strongly, and thus, 
 
 * Delivered before the American Social Science Association at 
 Washington, D. C, May 7-11, 1900, and reprinted from its Journal. 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 91 
 
 for those whom he influences, destroy the porpor- 
 tions of the whole of that to which he has sought 
 to contribute. To this result some, at least, of the 
 vast expenditure of thought on the part of our 
 ablest educators — with no fault of their own, per- 
 haps — seems to be tending. Many an ordinary 
 modern teacher has become so preoccupied with 
 the new, even when secondary, that he disregards 
 and disesteems the old, even when primary. 
 
 Accordingly, when the thought occurs to one, as 
 it will at times, that men like Plato and ^schylus, 
 Virgil and Tacitus, Shakespeare and Bacon, Lessing 
 and Goethe, and the public whom they entertained 
 as well as instructed, were not, in all regards, more 
 poorly educated than are the journalists and maga- 
 zine-writers of the present century, and with them 
 the constituency that supports them, the supposi- 
 tion may not be altogether unfounded. If not, if 
 there ever were more common interest in a more 
 thorough and profound treatment of subjects than 
 is common at present, it must be because former 
 methods of education trained to more thorough 
 and profound methods of thinking. To suggest that 
 this may be the case is to verge, of course, upon 
 educational heresy. The heresy may become too 
 rank for polite designation when it is added that 
 the fact suggested may be true for the reason that 
 modern education is founded too exclusively upon 
 what those who have originated it are proud of 
 terming scientific methods. 
 
 I am aware that the distinction which I am about 
 to make between studies intended to impart infor- 
 mation and to impart discipline has often been made 
 before, and that my original contribution at this 
 
92 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 point consists solely in tlie terms which I have chosen 
 to use. Nevertheless, I have thought it wise to use 
 them for two reasons : first, because I have noticed 
 — mainly from what I know of theological contro- 
 versy — that when a man, in an argument, begins 
 to call names, he invariably calls attention to what 
 he has to say. When he follows the advice of the 
 devil in Faust, and begins to quarrel about words, 
 the world, of which the devil is prince, begins 
 to crowd around him. But, besides this, I have 
 noticed, in the second place, that, when he begins 
 thus to awaken attention, he sometimes causes a 
 few — a very few, " the remnant," as Matthew Ar- 
 nold might say — to think about the name that he 
 has used, and of his reason for using it. 
 
 What causes the difference in aim between one who 
 devotes himself to science and one who devotes him- 
 self to art? This : the scientist must be an informer, 
 the artist a performer. Science develops the powers 
 of understanding and increases knowledge. Art 
 develops the powers of expression or execution, 
 and increases skill. In developing the powers of 
 understanding, science expects a man to examine 
 results, discriminate between those that differ, as- 
 sociate those that are alike, and assign to each class 
 appropriate causes. While doing these things, and 
 thus obtaining understanding, the processes in- 
 volved are expected so to impress facts and prin- 
 ciples upon his mind as to give him both knowledge 
 and remembrance of them. This is the distinctively 
 scientific method. It is undoubtedly, too, the natu- 
 ral method, — the method in accordance with which 
 the primitive man began to learn; and some think 
 that, therefore, it can and should be used in all 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 93 
 
 forms of education in our own day. They think 
 that either a man or a child, when needing instruc- 
 tion, should be handed, if studying English or a 
 foreign tongue, not an old-fashioned A-B-C Book, 
 but a page of consecutive reading matter ; if study- 
 ing mathematics, not an old-fashioned addition 
 table or multiplication table, but numerals arranged 
 for computation; or, if studying law, not an old- 
 fashioned Blackstone, but cases that have been 
 actually argued and decided in court. They expect 
 him to infer from these completed results— and, 
 when inferred, expect him to remember — the prin- 
 ciples of phonetics, linguistics, mathematics, or 
 law. There is undoubted rationality underlying 
 this method of study, especially as applied to ma- 
 ture minds. Such minds probably do retain best 
 that which they understand as a result of their own 
 inferences. But this method is not one that can 
 be applied, except subordinately, to the immature 
 minds of children; and this for two reasons — one 
 founded on the nature of the child's mental actions, 
 and the other on the nature of education. As con- 
 cerns the child's mental actions, it is enough to say 
 that neither induction nor anything resembling it is 
 natural to a mind that has not at its command a 
 comparatively large collection of facts. These the 
 child does not possess. He therefore cannot prac- 
 tise the method successfully, — a fact which nature, 
 if not man, seems to have recognized; for it has 
 given him a kind of memory that does not require 
 the assistance of explanation or association to the 
 same extent that a man's memory does. The small 
 child acquires, and uses what he acquires, as it 
 were, automatically, precisely as we all learn the 
 
94 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 notes of a song, whicli no mere explanation could 
 enable us to do. After, as well as before acquir- 
 ing, too, tbe child makes very little use of mere rea- 
 soning. From whatever is presented to thought, 
 whether in accord with fact or not, his mind im- 
 mediately proceeds, by way of romancing, to con- 
 struct ideal forms for imagination and ideal stand- 
 ards for conduct. Only later, somewhere between 
 the ages of twelve and twenty, does he naturally 
 begin to use the scientific method. Even after he 
 does so, too, it is extremely important for him to 
 retain some results of the mental habits formed in 
 early youth through the processes especially char- 
 acterizing childhood — in other words, to continue 
 to remember some things and to imagine others, 
 irrespective of any action of the conscious under- 
 standing. Think how little of this action is involved 
 in the mathematical calculations even of science, to 
 say nothing of the most of that, perhaps, which 
 tends to the development of poetry and religion. 
 The latter, especially, must often eriibody in action 
 the intuitive promptings of conscience wholly aside 
 from reasons derived from any facts that can form 
 a basis for induction. The time to train growth 
 in a tree or a man is when the forces of life which 
 one wishes to train are most active. If in child- 
 hood, at the period when memorizing by rote and 
 jumping to imaginative and conscientious conclu- 
 sions are natural to the mind, these tendencies, in- 
 stead of being utilized, are checked in order to de- 
 velop exclusively memory and other mental action 
 by way, merely of association, explanation or un- 
 derstanding, what is to prevent the mind in man- 
 hood from being only half developed? One does 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 95 
 
 not like to make personal applications; but the 
 cases are not few, either in the past or present, in 
 which men educated by scientific parents or guar- 
 dians have manifested to the end of their lives ab- 
 normal deficiencies in all the three directions just 
 mentioned — that is, in rote memory, in imagina- 
 tion, and in intuition. 
 
 Now let us pass on to the second reason for 
 doubting the wisdom of making too extensive use 
 of these scientific methods in childhood — the reason 
 founded upon the nature of education. I have just 
 shown where education begins, — not as extreme 
 advocates of the inferential system would have us 
 believe, where the first man's began, but where 
 the last man's— in this case the child's parent or 
 teacher — left off. The child accepts and uses as 
 general principles the arbitrary statements sup- 
 plied by his elders. He uses the word Fourth of 
 July long before for himself he has discovered it 
 to be the fourth day of the seventh month. He re- 
 frains from crying and scratching and lying long 
 before any inductive method has convinced him that 
 these may possibly annoy or injure someone else. 
 Hundreds of things are expected of him, and, when 
 he is normally educated, must be required of him, 
 before it is possible for him to understand them as 
 explained. Moreover, even if he could understand 
 them, his mere understanding of them could not 
 insure his ability to execute them. In other words, 
 to make the principle involved exactly applicable to 
 to the subject before us, to understand things, as 
 is necessary in science, cannot, of itself, enable one 
 to do things, as is necessary in art. 
 
 Granted that a pupil may be trained to read or 
 
96 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 to cipher by being made to understand, he cannot 
 be trained thus to read effectively — to use his voice 
 as in acting or as in operatic singing, or to cipher 
 well, as when trying to outcount a calculating ma- 
 chine. For these results he needs to acquire skill. 
 Skill can be acquired only through practise; and 
 this practise, like that of one learning to play on a 
 musical instrument, always involves thought and 
 labor expended, not upon completed results (see 
 pages 92-3), but upon certain analyzed elements. 
 The practise is needed, too, whether one is to ob- 
 tain much skill, or only a little. No one can ap- 
 proach artistic proficiency in any branch involving 
 action, without this attention to analyzed elements. 
 He might, indeed, were education merely the im- 
 parting of information. But it is not. It includes 
 the imparting of ability to use information. 
 
 In order to use information, the first requisite is 
 to be able to recall it. I do not say to retain it, 
 because, as a fact, probably nothing with which 
 the mind comes in contact is ever lost. In cases of 
 fright, fever, hypnotism, the most minute details 
 of events perceived, and whole paragraphs of lan- 
 guages not understood nor even consciously over- 
 heard, are repeated with infinite accuracy. What 
 is true of this information is that very little of it 
 thus proved to be not lost can be held in remem- 
 brance so as to be recalled when needed. The 
 ability to hold and recall it is largely physical, de- 
 pending on the fineness, extent, and vigor of the 
 convoluted surface of the brain-fiber — in other 
 words, on the physical strength of the brain. This 
 has been proved by both post-mortem and ante- 
 mortem examinations, A child or an aged man, on 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 97 
 
 account merely of physical weakness, has difficulty 
 in recalling words or arguments which in the 
 strength of manhood requires no effort. Of course, 
 the natural strength acquired by growth, can be in- 
 creased through that acquired by training. 
 
 It is a trite thing to say — and, if one were not 
 accommodating himself to the foolishness of others, 
 it would be a foolish thing to deem it necessary to 
 say — that the only way to train physical strength, 
 inside the brain or outside of it, is through prac- 
 tise. The child learns his own or a foreign lan- 
 guage by hearing it repeated, and by being himself 
 made to repeat words and phrases. For repeti- 
 tion of this kind, childhood is distinctively the age, 
 because it is the age of imitation. Of course, when 
 introduced into schools, such repetition is tedious, 
 but not necessarily so for the pupil, if the teacher 
 have sufficient vitality and grace to mount the plat- 
 form and beat time picturesquely. Then the whole 
 performance, because rhythmical, may become, to 
 the very youngest, as entertaining as a rehearsal 
 in a kindergarten of either Mother Goose's or 
 Mother Grundy's melodies. But what if such repe- 
 tition be tedious for pupil as well as for teacher? 
 Must there be absolutely no obstacles in the path- 
 way of learning? Is the necessity for hard work 
 in mounting upward and onward an excuse for 
 sliding downward and backward? The truth is 
 that some things must be learned by rote, and can 
 be learned satisfactorily in childhood only. In the 
 old-fashioned elementary schools of our country 
 the addition table and multiplication table were re- 
 peated in unison by all the pupils at least once 
 every day. There are thousands of children of the 
 
98 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 present of whom such practise is never required; 
 and their parents are told that the children need 
 not learn these tables at all. Apparently many of 
 them never do learn them. Why would it interfere 
 with a reasonable alternation of what are termed 
 scientific methods to continue to devote thirty or 
 forty minutes a day to this kind of work; i.e., to 
 repeating — possibly by way of singing — ^not only 
 these tables, but certain other rudiments of knowl- 
 edge now ignored altogether, like the order of the 
 letters of the alphabet, and their phonetic sounds 
 when combined, and, later, in connection with maps 
 upon the walls, geographic names, and, still later, 
 paradigms and vocabularies of foreign languages? 
 Arithmetic and Caesar's Commentaries are as in- 
 teresting as puzzles to a child whose mind adds, 
 subtracts, multiplies, declines, conjugates, and 
 translates the forms conjugated automatically. If, 
 because of never acquiring the ability to do this, 
 more advanced studies seem to the pupil wholly un- 
 interesting, this is less frequently because he is dull 
 than because his teachers have faUed to carry out 
 certain first principles of the department to which 
 they have devoted themselves. Of course, all teach- 
 ers, even when most " advanced," do not ignore 
 these principles. No common system can deprive 
 every agent of it of common sense. But, if they 
 were not ignored by some, we should not find — as 
 we do to-day, and would not have done forty years 
 ago — college students who cannot use a dictionary 
 to advantage, because they have never learned au- 
 tomatically the order of the letters of the alphabet ; 
 who cannot pronounce a long word never seen be- 
 fore, because they have never learned automatically 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 99 
 
 the phonetic sounds of the combined letters; who, 
 in Latin or Greek, because they cannot translate 
 automatically the grammatical forms, fail utterly 
 to recognize the delicate interchange of rela- 
 tions between word and word which used to be 
 considered the chief advantage of studying the 
 classics; and, worse still, when viewed practically, 
 who, after passing through algebra and geometry, 
 have too little arithmetic facility to become success- 
 ful candidates for clerks ia country shops, because 
 they cannot add or multiply automatically, but, in 
 making the simplest calculations, must count on 
 their fingers. These are some of the results — by 
 no means universal, but sufficient in number to in- 
 dicate tendencies — of an endeavor, before minds are 
 prepared for this form of culture exclusively, to 
 cultivate powers of inference and of consequent in- 
 vention. The endeavor is wise so far as the mother 
 of invention is ignorance. But, possibly, in search- 
 ing for educational methods, it might be equally 
 wise for us to go to the other extreme. This is 
 what is done in the Orient. The children there spend 
 their entire time, apparently, in repeating aloud 
 what they have to learn. But, owing to the powers 
 of memorizing thus cultivated, the average Orien- 
 tal, in early manhood, can probably learn five for- 
 eign languages while the average American of the 
 same age is learning one of them. 
 
 What the Oriental has not learned to do is to as- 
 sociate as well as to recollect. A man who is to use 
 to advantage that which has come to his eyes and 
 ears needs to recollect it at the right times and 
 places. That he may do this, that he may attend 
 to many things and collect them together and do 
 
100 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 both promptly, the pupil needs to be trained by 
 questions necessitating unexpected connections be- 
 tween things that seem disconnected when learned 
 by rote. I was once permitted to visit all the rooms 
 in the Stuttgart Gymnasium, an institution which 
 has a ten years' course attended by pupils between 
 seven or ten and seventeen or twenty years of age. 
 I found that no work was required outside of the 
 recitation room, except now and then certain writ- 
 ten exercises not expected to necessitate more than 
 a half -hour's time. I found, moreover, that while 
 in the recitation room the pupils were constantly 
 under the fire of the teacher's dictating or ques- 
 tioning. The translating into Latin or Greek, for 
 instance, was done not by placing a boy before a 
 dictionary, but by telling the whole class the 
 meaning of a new word, and having all, singly or 
 in concert, repeat, declaim, or conjugate it suffi- 
 ciently to fix it in memory. This method, pursued 
 too exclusively, fails, perhaps, to cultivate mental 
 independence. At any rate, the German university 
 student seems to be deficient in this. But, so far 
 as concerns the effect of the method upon mere 
 learning, is it any wonder that pupils so instructed 
 are prepared, after reaching the university, to un- 
 derstand page after page of quotations in Latin 
 when merely read to them? Few American stu- 
 dents, if questioned as to the meanings of such 
 quotations, would not feel constrained to explain to 
 their German associates that in our coimtry we 
 pronounce Latin according to a different method. 
 How, forsooth, could we understand what was read? 
 Dr. Mark Hopkins, of Williams College, until he 
 was more than seventy years of age, was accus- 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 101 
 
 tomed to meet his Senior classes nine times a week, 
 and every exercise during the year, with exception 
 of twelve in which he delivered lectures, was de- 
 voted to questioning; i.e., to making the students 
 recall, with right associations, facts and principles 
 which they already knew, and in such an order as 
 of themselves to build up the philosophic theory 
 that he wished to impress upon them. Of late 
 years there seems to have been less and less of 
 this kind of instruction in our country, owing 
 largely, too, to the influence of teachers who have 
 studied in German universities, and apparently know 
 nothing of the kind of instruction given in German 
 preparatory schools. In a professional school, 
 which the German university is — a school preceded 
 by very severe drill in a preparatory institution — 
 a school in which the amount learned is to deter- 
 mine the amount to be earned ; is to determine very 
 often the life position to be assigned by the govern- 
 ment as a result of the university examination — 
 a method of teaching in which lectures without other 
 instruction are given may work successfully. But 
 in the race for a diploma which characterizes the 
 American university, in which students in curri- 
 culum as well as in athletics are prone to facilitate 
 themselves upon their dexterity in stripping off 
 every non-essential encumbrance, the method some- 
 times fails to work. Frequently the only thing that 
 does work, and this does not work hard, is the recol- 
 lective faculty while memorizing a printed syllabus 
 for a few hours immediately preceding a term ex- 
 amination. This memorizing represents the exact 
 amount of practical training that the study of men- 
 tal philosophy, for instance, has given one. The 
 
102 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 study has developed in only the slightest conceiv- 
 able way the ability of the pupil to analyze ap- 
 pearances, to associate ideas, or to draw conclu- 
 sions. Practically, as applied to this branch, the 
 difference intended to be indicated by the diploma 
 granted to one who has gone through a university 
 course and to one who has listened to a course of 
 university lectures has been obliterated. It is a 
 question whether boards of trustees in all under- 
 graduate institutions should not require in all 
 branches some instruction in addition to that im- 
 parted through lectures. Unless these latter be fol- 
 lowed by the questioning of a recitation exercise, 
 there is no guarantee that the student will under- 
 stand them, and almost a certainty that he will not 
 remember them or be able to apply their principles. 
 This thought suggests another element of educa- 
 tion. The student needs to be trained not only to 
 recollect and associate, but also to apply his infor- 
 mation. In this regard one would naturally sup- 
 pose that scientific methods — at least in America — 
 would prove satisfactory. And, as a fact, our 
 teachers are too practical not to make their educa- 
 tion practical to some extent. At the same time, 
 ciphering, translating with dictionary in hand, 
 working in laboratories, and composing sentences, 
 paragraphs, metaphors, similes, and analyzing 
 themes, is not done to a sufficient extent under the 
 eye of the instructor, which is the only certain way 
 of securing original work. In important direc- 
 tions, too, there is a tendency to teach very prac- 
 tical branches theoretically. For instance, the re- 
 quirements in English for entrance into our colleges 
 and universities — requirements recommended by 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 103 
 
 committees of instructors, and now almost univer- 
 sally adopted — necessitate mainly the reading of 
 certain whole novels or poems of high character. 
 No one can object to accustoming the young to pure 
 English as used in such works; but he can object 
 to the proportion of time allotted to their perusal. 
 He can argue, too, that there is no such knowledge 
 of style acquired through reading them as compen- 
 sates for a neglect of training of a more strenuous 
 character. In reading a long novel, for instance, 
 not even a mature mind, and still less an inunature 
 one, notices style after becoming interested in the 
 story for its own sake; i.e., after passing beyond 
 the earlier chapters. To understand style, too, in- 
 volves discrimination. No one kind of it can be 
 appreciated except as it is compared and con- 
 trasted with other kinds.* It can be best studied, 
 therefore, in books containing collections of short 
 stories or essays. Moreover, even as studied in 
 
 * First, there is needed here a professor who will teach what is not 
 now taught in English. You will notice that there is no course 
 required of all students in the general history of our literature. 
 Such a course, showing the influences of different periods and products 
 and the connections between them, is to the understanding of litera- ' 
 ture very much what a scaffolding is to a building. The young need, 
 as much as anything else, a framework into which they can place, 
 and by so doing can relate and harmonize, their information with 
 reference to particulars. To obtain these general conceptions, these 
 broad outlines of knowledge, which accurate study can subsequently 
 fill in, — this is one of the main objects of what we term liberal 
 education; nor are many things more futile than trying to do no 
 more than particularize with reference to subjects that cannot be 
 understood at all except as they are recognized to be parts of a whole. 
 Besides this the same professor, or someone else, should have required 
 courses, in connection with a study of argumentation, logic, the laws 
 of evidence, or some similar branch, in which all the students, — 
 not merely some, as at present — may be trained how to analyze 
 themes and to formulate thought — may be trained if possible, ac- 
 cording to a method analogous to that pursued by Mark Hopkins. 
 The right man could probably be found by searching for the bright- 
 
104 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 these books, style has little practical effect in train- 
 ing one's own methods, except when the phrase- 
 ology is either committed to memory, as were pas- 
 sages of the Bible by Bunyan and the many old 
 English writers whose methods of composition this 
 book influenced, or else when intentionally imitated, 
 as in the training given themselves by Stevenson 
 
 est young instructor, the one most skilled in questioning, most suc- 
 cessful in cross-examining in some law school. 
 
 Second, there is needed here a professor who is an expert — and 
 this word should be emphasized — an expert in voice-building and 
 gesture, as well as able to teach other things that pertaiu to the 
 delivery and composition of orations. Some work with him should 
 be required, too, to the end of the course. I say this because to 
 omit these branches, or to make them in the last two years, as is 
 now done, entirely elective, deprives the student of a most effective 
 stimulus to effort in these directions. In the degree in which he 
 realizes that these last years will reveal, in some way, to his class 
 or to the College, the results of his training, he will take care to 
 make the results what they should be. The requirements that are 
 to come will act like a dam upon a river and lift the whole current 
 of College sentiment and endeavor to a higher level. 
 
 Why do sentiment and endeavor in these branches — the only ones 
 in the College offering direct training in the presentation of thought 
 — need to be lifted to a higher level? Not merely to fit young men 
 for usefulness in the special work required of pubUo writers or 
 speakers, but to complete their general education. If a man be 
 hypnotized or thrown into a fever, it is found that, apparently, he 
 has forgotten nothing that he had ever heard or experienced. Many 
 things have not been made available to him in his normal state 
 merely because he has not been able to recall and use them at the 
 right times and places. A very important part of education is to 
 correct these forms of disability; and the branches which I have been 
 discussing, are those which, in all ages, have been recognized as the 
 ones most effective in doing this. It may be well, too, to remind 
 the Alumni that even the department of English devoted to vocal 
 culture has to do with more than merely giving the strenuous but too 
 often uncultured country lad who comes to college the accent and 
 bearing of refinement, desirable as would be this result alone. It 
 is a theory of one of the Oriental cults that to make a man spiritual 
 — ^in the sense of having an imaginative and inventive mind — you 
 must first teach him how to breathe, because spirit and air — or breath 
 —are one and the same. This explanation is not scientific, but the 
 effort to represent it as such will not appear wholly absurd when we 
 recall men like Beecher, Phillips, Guthrie and Spurgeon, who, ac- 
 cording to their own accounts, began their careers by learning how 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 105 
 
 and Henry Clay. Admirable, therefore, as are in 
 some regards these English requirements, one feels 
 obliged to say that often the time required for read- 
 ing and learning facts really immaterial with refer- 
 ence to characters and transactions in the prescribed 
 literary works leaves little opportunity for the kind 
 of study of style which is most practically beneficial. 
 
 to breathe, and only subsequently developed their imaginative and 
 inventive powers, until the results became, as Beecher expresses it, 
 ' ' as easy as to breathe. ' ' The truth seems to be that when one 
 habitually clarifies the blood in every cell of his lungs — and about 
 every man that I have ever known needs to learn how to do this — 
 he does the same with the blood in every cell of his brain. This 
 makes all of the brain active. If you could make it all suflSciently 
 active you would have genius. Every man would be a genius, if only 
 he could combine the fever-like glow which sets imagination on 
 fire with the healthful steadiness of pulse which keeps the reason 
 cool. 
 
 The kind of instruction that I have indicated is not now given — I 
 sometimes fear that it cannot be given — in large Universities. They 
 contain too many students to render possible the oversight required; 
 they teach too many branches crowding upon one another to allow 
 the time required; and, above all, so many among their faculties 
 and trustees consider the work of education ended when information 
 has been imparted, that it is practically impossible to make them 
 recognize the necessity at this stage of the student's progress, for 
 that which may be specifically termed training. 
 
 When a parent asks me why his boy should be sent to these halls, 
 it may seem logical for me to answer because twenty-five years ago 
 the greatest teacher of the country taught here, or because to-day 
 the mountains rise here; but circumstances have rendered it possible 
 for those in authority to give me a better argument. I should like 
 to be able to place against the background filled, it is true, with a few 
 brilliant scholars but with scores and scores of absolutely uneducated 
 men — if by educated be meant to have been trained to be able to think 
 and to present thought — who are marching in the processions of those 
 receiving diplomas in the undergraduate departments of our great 
 Universities — to place against such a background and in contrast 
 to it, many and many an average or backward student who, because 
 he came to this little college, could not escape an honest effort made 
 to impel him to recognize his own possibilities and aptitudes, and 
 to train him to the most effective use of these; and who, for this 
 reason, has become in some respects a thinker and in all respects a 
 helper and a blessing to his kind. — Extract from a Beport by the 
 author to the Alumni of Williams College, and published by them, 
 in June, 190S. 
 
106 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 A similar result seems to threaten the universal 
 adoption, now urged by many, of quantitative re- 
 quirements in other branches. Why should these 
 requirements magnify quantity at the expense of 
 quality, especially in parts of the country where 
 preparatory schools are inferior and where State 
 pride, as also State universities, tend to leniency 
 on the part of examiners? How many teachers 
 aiming to have their pupils fulfil these require- 
 ments would be stimulated — or suflBLciently inde- 
 pendent when not stimulated — to prevent classes 
 from advancing rapidly, as did Dr. Taylor, of Phil- 
 lips Andover Academy, until he had laid a foun- 
 dation, as he thought, for accurate, scholarly de- 
 velopment? Undoubtedly, there would remain 
 great teachers in the country; but would the sys- 
 tem tend to develop them? Might it not rather 
 tend to produce the conditions formerly existing 
 in China, where, with the most thoroughly organ- 
 ized universal standards of examination few pass- 
 ing them were trained to use their scholarship ex- 
 cept by way of recalling what someone else had 
 said or done? It might seem strange that what 
 has been termed the scientific conception in edu- 
 cation should consummate thus; but it would not 
 be the first time that pushing a pendulum to one 
 extreme has enabled it to fly the more readily to 
 the other extreme. 
 
 The tendencies in wrong directions that have 
 been indicated are certainly due largely to the in- 
 troduction of scientific studies, — studies designed 
 chiefly to impart information. Of course, too, it is 
 true that our educational system, as it existed 
 thirty years ago, needed to have these studies in- 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 107 
 
 troduced. But they might have been introduced — 
 substituted in some instances, adapted in method 
 in others — so as to interfere less than has been the 
 case with that disciplining of the mind which up to 
 that time had been the chief end of our colleges as 
 well as academies. Upon the system then existing, 
 composed of colleges and of post-graduate schools 
 of theology, medicine, and law, a university system 
 might have been developed through supplementing 
 the post-graduate professional schools already es- 
 tablished by similar schools training experts and 
 teachers in physics, chemistry, and all the natural 
 sciences, as well as in philosophy, language, and 
 history. Instead of pursuing this course, our edu- 
 cators have allowed nature-studies, not always di- 
 rected toward a disciplinary end, to crowd out 
 drill in primary schools, and to overload the higher 
 schools with an amount of work for which there is 
 often neither time nor equipment. Into many of 
 our colleges, too, studies have been introduced 
 which can be pursued successfully by only a post- 
 graduate. Together with the introduction of these 
 has come the elective system, — a system which, tho 
 of inestimable benefit in some regards, has in other 
 regards, as at present conducted, proved injurious. 
 A frequent practical result of it is that, with only 
 a nominal oversight, students devoid of needed 
 mental training elect their courses upon the prin- 
 ciple that those are — so to speak — the most delect- 
 able which trouble one the least with questions 
 either in recitations or in examinations. Another 
 result is that professors, who are human, vie with 
 one another for popularity, and if they attain it, 
 their courses for this reason alone are falsely con- 
 
108 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 sidered successful not only by the students, but also 
 by certain of the trustees who imagine that the 
 sizes of a professor's elective classes give the meas- 
 ure of his ability. Nevertheless, despite the ten- 
 dencies just mentioned, all resulting primarily from 
 an endeavor to introduce more science into our 
 educational system, despite this lessening of mental 
 drill in order to give place to information, I have 
 never yet heard one professor of long standing 
 in a professional school admit that undergraduate 
 courses — say in Hebrew, anatomy, chemistry, or 
 law, tho pursued as a special preparation for the 
 professional school — could shorten the course re- 
 quired in this school itself, — largely because the 
 special study is not pursued in the sub-graduate 
 institution — and, as is claimed, cannot be pursued 
 there — in the right spirit or in the right relations. 
 In other words, as much time has to be spent in 
 our professional schools as of old, notwithstand- 
 ing the fact that the ages of students entering 
 them are probably two years above what, with our 
 better facilities for instruction, their ages would 
 have been if, forty years ago, our educators had 
 not started out to load the old system in the direc- 
 tion of quantity. That their practical influence 
 has been in this direction is simply a matter of 
 record. How few of the published entrance-re- 
 quirements of our colleges and universities fail to 
 dwell upon quantity — so many books of Virgil or 
 Homer — rather than upon quality! How few fail 
 to mention time — so many years spent upon Latin 
 or Greek — as a prerequisite for even any examina- 
 tion at all ! Yet I have personally known one man 
 — of course an Oriental — who, six weeks after he 
 
ABTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 109 
 
 had seen his first Latin word, knew as much about 
 the language, and could write as accurate a thesis 
 in it, as any of his hundred classmates who, fulfil- 
 ling all the conventional requirements, had presum- 
 ably studied the language at least six years. 
 
 This suggests the last thought of this paper, 
 which is that the student needs to be trained not 
 only to recollect, to associate, and to apply his in- 
 formation, but also to advance in information. 
 Eevolution seldom goes backward. Probably we 
 never can reinstate the educational conditions of 
 forty years ago, and, as we might once have done, 
 develop from them, as they were, a satisfactory 
 American system. Probably only by going for- 
 ward in some direction can we now compensate for 
 what, because we did not avail ourselves of it when 
 we could, we have lost. Let us look at this last re- 
 quirement, therefore, with this suggestion in mind. 
 Could there be a greater waste of time than to re- 
 quire six years' study of the man just mentioned, 
 who could master a language in six weeks? Could 
 mental activity receive a more effectual quietus 
 than through keeping bright pupils, as is done in 
 many of our schools, for a year or two upon one 
 study, when, if allowed to go at their own gait, 
 they could finish it in a few months? Could desire 
 to understand and to master be more effectually 
 benumbed than by dragging an equal number of 
 dull pupils out of a lower class and into a higher, 
 before their slow minds have become able by 
 thought to comprehend or by practise to apply the 
 principles that underlie the studies taught in the 
 higher class? Yet all these results are common in 
 the graded system of schools and colleges, upon 
 
110 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 which we pride ourselves. Of course, those who 
 have provided us with the system have provided 
 remedies for its drawbacks. In one large section 
 of country of which I know, a mere boy deficient at 
 the end of a year in a single branch is made to go 
 back and repeat all the studies of this year. In 
 most well-regulated colleges a student must repeat 
 them all, if deficient in two branches. In other 
 words, because lacking preparation or facility in 
 one or two directions, everything in the young mind 
 that stimulates interest or encourages ambition is 
 blocked. Why not have a method accommodated to 
 the needs of the individual rather than sacrifice the 
 individual to the method? Why not, in part at 
 least, extend to all higher institutions the plan that 
 has been pursued for many years with signal suc- 
 cess in the University of Virginia? Why not do 
 away, in part at least, with the class system, ex- 
 cept as applied to term work in a few branches; 
 and in these, at the end of each term, open the door 
 and let the bright pupil mount on and up, and turn 
 the dull one back or into some other branch, in 
 order to give his understanding another chance? 
 Why not grant diplomas to those who have com- 
 pleted prescribed courses, whether at the end of one 
 year or of ten? Why not apply in education the 
 principle of concentration which all successful men 
 apply in after-life? One year spent exclusively 
 upon Greek or Latin would give many minds four 
 times as much knowledge of these subjects as four 
 years of attention divided between them and half a 
 dozen other branches. 
 
 If it be thought that this method of hurrying for- 
 ward those who are themselves forward would de- 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 111 
 
 prive them of the benefits of personal quizzing and 
 practise, why not add examinations in quality as 
 well as in quantity, and give diplomas for what a 
 man can do as well as for what he can recall ? * This, 
 in fact, would merely carry out the old conception 
 of the degrees of arts. A Master of Arts was once 
 supposed to be able to use his knowledge, just as a 
 Doctor of Philosophy was once supposed to be able 
 to philosophize, and not — owing, as there is reason 
 to suspect, to a modern endeavor to make a scien- 
 tific study of English — merely able to count on his 
 fingers the numbers of consecutive and alternate 
 alliterations of each letter of the alphabet in some 
 rightly forgotten Anglo-Saxon doggerel, and all 
 this without sufficient intelligence to be aware that 
 he is wasting his time. 
 
 This thought suggests excuses, if they be needed, 
 for reading this paper before an association like 
 this rather than before some educational conven- 
 tion. One excuse is derived from the fact that in 
 America the hope of arresting what is deleterious 
 in any direction lies largely in an appeal to pub- 
 lic as distinguished from professional sentiment. 
 Especially, as directed toward educational insti- 
 tutions, does public sentiment with us determine 
 patronage, benefactions, and, to a large extent, the 
 policies of boards of visitors and trustees. But, 
 besides this, it may be said that all conventions, 
 whether of teachers or of any other classes of peo- 
 ple who are considering courses of action, are apt 
 to be dominated by men who have the spirit of the 
 advocate, whose influence, therefore, tends to pro- 
 duce the result mentioned in the opening paragraph 
 
 *Notice again what is said on pp. 30-33. 
 
112 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 of this paper; i.e., tends to emphasize some new 
 contribution to sucli an extent as practically to de- 
 stroy the proportions of the whole of the old sys- 
 tem to which it has contributed. 
 
 Indeed, this very result has actually been pro- 
 duced upon many of those following our own edu- 
 cational leadership. Is there not something, there- 
 fore, in the suggestion that new methods should 
 not be received without question, before they have 
 commended themselves to popular common sense? 
 It was this latter, as embodied in the practical 
 clergymen, lawyers, and merchants who were our 
 forefathers, that developed the system of education 
 in vogue in our country forty-five years ago.* 
 This system was given to text-books rather than to 
 lectures, and to an immense amount of repeating, 
 drilling, questioning, reciting, writing, and declaim- 
 ing, all of which methods, from those of the pri- 
 mary school to commencement stage, were designed 
 to be — what it seems extremely difficult to get into 
 the heads of many scientists of the present day — 
 means, and not ends. And what of this former sys- 
 tem, every part of which was a constituent element 
 of the whole? For fifty years it turned out, in 
 proportion to the knowledge imparted — I am not 
 saying that more knowledge might not and ought 
 not to have been imparted — the most thoroughly 
 equipped citizens, whether considered as merchants, 
 inventors, thinkers, or leaders in any department 
 
 *Not an unimportant part of, that system, perhaps, was the neces- 
 sarily limited number of pupils attending the district schools of the 
 period. Certainly, some of the evils of the class-system that have 
 been mentioned, as well as certain more serious social evils, might be 
 lessened by substituting for the large public schools of our cities 
 many small neighborhood schools. 
 
ARTISTIC AND SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION 113 
 
 of action that, perhaps, the world had ever seen. 
 It made men efficient even tho it may have left them 
 somewhat deficient. If it did not enable them to 
 catalog many of the important facts in material 
 nature, it did enable them to marshal most of the 
 essential forces in human nature. During the con- 
 troversies attending the movement in our country 
 for the abolition of slavery, is it not true that as 
 many well-prepared agitators for a great reform, 
 cultivated, too, in the sense of being skilled from 
 the bottom of their brains to the ends of their 
 tongues and fingers, could be found in America as 
 in any part of the civilized world? Of course, there 
 is more than one cause behind every effect; but 
 the practical efficiency of American intelligence as 
 then developed — ^more highly in men like Webster, 
 Beecher and Phillips, than in any of our joublic men 
 of the present — must have been due, in part at least, 
 to the method of American education. Is it not 
 worth while for us to ask in what degree this whole 
 method, root, branch and fruitage, is now threat- 
 ened? and, if it be threatened, what may ultimately 
 be the results, as well as what may be done to pre- 
 vent results that may prove deleterious? These 
 questions are asked, not in any pessimistic spirit, 
 but with a firm conviction that they will be an- 
 swered satisfactorily just as soon as the American 
 people can be brought to perceive clearly their re- 
 lationship to present conditions and to prospective 
 developments. 
 
TEACHING IN DRAWING AS RELATED TO 
 
 THE TRAINING OF THE INTELLECT 
 
 IN GENERAL * 
 
 One thing that differentiates a man from a mere 
 animal is the spirit that incites and inspires him. 
 This spirit, like the water in a living fountain, is 
 constantly overflowing that which forms its basin. 
 Whether one be a merchant, lawyer, preacher or 
 teacher, he can do nothing well without being con- 
 scious of being the source of much that runs to 
 waste. In many school-rooms, in many places in 
 our country, knowledge and skill sufficient to start 
 upon successful careers the greatest orators, poets, 
 architects, or painters, are lavished upon pupils 
 few or none of whom give any promise of attain- 
 ing eminence. What then? Shall instructors in 
 such places become discouraged? How do they 
 know that the work which they are doing may not 
 prove of great value to the world? No such infer- 
 ence can be drawn from the mere fact that they 
 have never been brought into personal contact with 
 pupils manifesting genius. A wave breaking upon 
 the seacoast with its spray dashing up to sparkle 
 in the sunshine has a grand and beautiful effect. 
 But what makes the wave? An innumerable num- 
 ber of little springs hidden in obscure places in 
 the mountains. In the little springs there are no 
 
 * Delivered before the Eastern Art Teachers' Association, Balti- 
 more, Md., April 22-24, 1903, and printed in its records. 
 
MENTAL DISCIPLINE IN DRAWING 115 
 
 waves. But there would be none anywhere, were 
 it not for the cumulative effects of all the springs 
 together. So with great achievements in art. They 
 are the cumulative effects of little degrees of knowl- 
 edge and skill, started in thousands of obscure 
 places, and apparently wasted as they sink into 
 depths of greater obscurity. Special attainments 
 in this world are based, as a rule, upon general at- 
 tainments. That which towers high must have 
 broad foundations. If, because of the impossibility 
 of discovering any future astronomer or poet 
 among their immediate pupils, teachers of mathe- 
 matics or rhetoric lose enthusiasm, there will be 
 no future astronomers or poets anywhere. Not all 
 the bees in a hive have to do with developing the 
 queen-bee. Yet one appears every season, and this 
 because of the work of all. Meantime, they all 
 have also contributed to the provisioning, the com- 
 fort, the prosperity and the sweetness of the whole 
 corporate life. So with teachers of drawing in 
 primary schools. Little as sometimes they seem 
 to themselves to accomplish or, through any mani- 
 festation of efficiency, seem to be able to accom- 
 plish during the few immature years in which a 
 pupil comes under their influence their work, never- 
 theless, furnishes the beginning, the background, 
 the foundation of everything that makes art in a 
 country worth while, practically or esthetically, 
 materially or spiritually. Not many children un- 
 mistakably indicate their aptitudes in early life. 
 At the same time, not many fail to have aptitudes 
 awakened in them by their early instruction. As 
 a rule, few leaving the elementary school between 
 the ages of twelve and eighteen are able without 
 
116 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 subsequent training to do anything of value, either 
 in industrial or in fine art. But thousands of them 
 have been started in paths of which, but for their 
 elementary studies, they never would have known, 
 and where these paths lead, the world is waiting 
 usually to be benefited by them, and sometimes to 
 honor them. 
 
 One of the most interesting things in this world 
 is an ant-hill. We come upon it in a grass-plot, or 
 a rocky waste, or a field of loam of a certain hue or 
 texture, and it usually consists of a gathering to- 
 gether, grain by grain, of materials and colors not 
 interesting in themselves, yet made so by being se- 
 lected from surrounding ones. Man has a way of 
 making things interesting through an exercise of a 
 similar faculty of selection. That from which he se- 
 lects usually comprises two elements — substance and 
 appearance; more strictly, substance not having form 
 and substance having it, or needing to be made to 
 have it in order to be that for which it is of value. 
 It is with this latter, with substance having form, 
 that art is concerned. As we sit in our homes and 
 examine our surroundings, we discover in them ar- 
 tistic appearances infinitely beyond the number of 
 those which any one man, looking at the world 
 about him, could suppose that this could in any 
 way suggest. These appearances are everywhere, 
 whether we look at the carpet, wall-paper, table- 
 service, bric-a-brac or furniture. As manifested in 
 all these places, they indicate the exact degree of 
 the taste of those who have made or have pur- 
 chased them. Much of this taste, too, as well as 
 the ability to express it in production, has been 
 cultivated in children when learning to draw and 
 
MENTAL DISCIPLINE IN DRAWING 117 
 
 color. But this is not all. Dependent primarily on 
 the same taste and ability, are the house itself, the 
 garden surrounding it, the town in which it stands, 
 with its business blocks and churches, the county 
 with its roads and parks, and the whole coun- 
 try with its harbors, canals and railways, with all 
 the century's various methods of development and 
 transportation. All these necessitate, on the part 
 of promoters or inventors, the drawing of plans, 
 plots, charts, maps and designs. If so, it may be 
 doubted whether, after reading, writing and arith- 
 metic, any branch of instruction begins the knowl- 
 edge of that which is destined to prove more 
 generally useful in life, than does instruction in 
 drawing. 
 
 But in our schools we teach mathematics, rhet- 
 oric or the languages, not merely for the benefit of 
 those who are to be accountants, authors, or trav- 
 elers in foreign lands, but as a means of general 
 mental discipline. Mathematics, besides making an 
 accountant, trains a man to think and to express 
 himself consecutively and logically. The languages, 
 besides making a linguist, train him to do the same 
 accurately and concisely. I was once a member of 
 a class in mathematics hardly more than six of 
 whom out of sixty were called upon to recite more 
 than once or twice a fortnight. These were pupils 
 who were expected to recite well. The instructor 
 was not a good teacher. He was cultivating apti- 
 tudes in a few who were not indebted for them to 
 him but to nature. In the rest he was cultivating 
 nothing. Yet tho they were not mathematicians by 
 nature, he might, through the agency of mathe- 
 matics, have taught them something of more im- 
 
118 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 portance for tlieni at least than proficiency in this 
 branch. He might have taught them methods hav- 
 ing to do with enabling them to think. 
 
 Many instructors never teach thinking in general, 
 particularly in these days when teachers affect to 
 be, and pupils affect to admire, specialists. As a 
 fact, there is no successful specialist whose range 
 of knowledge and of thought is not wider than that 
 of the branch to which he has particularly devoted 
 himself. The specialist in medicine must know, 
 and very definitely, too, not only whether any par- 
 ticular disease is, but also whether it is not, within 
 the range of that concerning which his opinion is 
 sought. Otherwise, he will be merely a quack. 
 Someone has said — it is true as applied only to a 
 philologist — that the man who knows but one lan- 
 guage knows no language. An analogous state- 
 ment would be more true as applied to any one 
 branch of learning, and still more true as applied 
 to the purpose of teaching this branch. He who 
 teaches it for only one purpose does not teach it 
 well for any purpose. 
 
 What are some of the purposes, aside from mak- 
 ing draftsmen and colorists, that can be accom- 
 plished by the branch of study that we are now 
 considering? What influences can the teaching of 
 this exert upon the development of the mental 
 powers in general! In order to answer this ques- 
 tion, it will be convenient, and sufficiently accurate 
 in the circumstances, to divide these mental powers 
 into those of observation, reflection and construc- 
 tion. To begin with observation: A few years ago 
 I met a graduate of Princeton on Pennsylvania 
 Avenue in Washington. " I have never forgot- 
 
MENTAL DISCIPLINE IN DRAWING 119 
 
 ten," lie said, " the first question you asked me in 
 the class-room when I was a Freshman. It was 
 this: the difference between the ways in which the 
 College bell was rung for service on Sundays, and 
 for prayers on other days of the week. I was 
 proud of being able to answer the question; but I 
 could not have answered your next one. You asked 
 how many stories there were in Nassau Hall, and 
 how many windows were on each side of its central 
 door." In putting such questions, which I myself 
 had forgotten, I was undoubtedly trying to make 
 the students realize how much more some perceive 
 in the world than others do, and from that to have 
 them draw a lesson with reference to the impor- 
 tance, for some of them, of learning to perceive. 
 In great emergencies, we all recognize this impor- 
 tance. When a fire threatens several places in a 
 street, when a ship seems about to strike another 
 in a storm or fog, when a general is about to meet 
 an enemy upon land on which there are a few 
 knolls or houses, then that man is apt to be the 
 most efficient who, in the briefest glance, can per- 
 ceive most clearly the largest number of conditions 
 and possibilities. So in the scientific world, the 
 successful botanist is he who notices with most 
 accuracy every turn of line or color that distin- 
 guishes one leaf or limb from another; the suc- 
 cessful physician is he who is keen enough not to 
 leave out of his diagnosis a single one of the small 
 and, apparently insignificant symptoms that sepa- 
 rate one disease from other diseases. To be able to 
 observe is equally important in less serious cir- 
 cumstances. I once had a servant in my house 
 who apparently never failed to hear anything said 
 
120 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 in no matter how low a tone, or to see anything 
 left in no matter how hidden a place. All the mem- 
 bers of the household were inclined to feel that, 
 with her about, they were leading rather too con- 
 spicuous a life. But when she gave way to another 
 servant, who apparently could hear or see nothing, 
 a cry for help seemed constantly going up that the 
 help for which we were paying never supplied. A 
 friend of mine was intending to take one of two 
 nephews on a trip to Europe. The only reason 
 why he chose one instead of the other, was because 
 this one always seemed to have his eyes open, and 
 he rightly concluded that with such a young man 
 the trip would reveal far more points of interest 
 than it would if taken with one who apparently was 
 half blind. What we term politeness and courtesy 
 are traceable to habits of observing little tones and 
 looks and gestures, fully as much as to a kind and 
 sympathetic heart. Indeed, they tend, just as 
 breadth of knowledge in any direction tends, to 
 produce a kind and sympathetic heart. In all de- 
 partments of society or business, the man who thor- 
 oughly understands those whom he meets is the 
 man who, instinctively, as it were, looks them over, 
 and knows enough to balance against their con- 
 scious words their unconscious actions. 
 
 A friend of mine, a prosecuting attorney, had 
 been trying for months to find a clue through 
 which to trace a murderer. One day, happening 
 to mention the case in the presence of one whom 
 he had no reason to suspect, he discovered himself 
 suddenly trembling. He was leaning against a 
 wheel in a carriage factory. He glanced around 
 and found that this man's hand was resting on the 
 
MENTAL DISCIPLINE IN DBAWINO 121 
 
 same wheel. Then he looked at the man's face. 
 Within a week evidence had been found sufficient 
 to prove this one to be the criminal for whom he 
 was in search. Hundreds of similar instances 
 might be cited, all illustrating the importance of 
 cultivating, when deficient, habits of observation. 
 All habits, as we know, are cultivated best in child- 
 hood. Nothing tends to cultivate accuracy in the 
 perception of every phase of form, as does the 
 effort to draw or to color it. 
 
 But mental discipline involves, besides observa- 
 tion, reflection. By this is meant now the habit of 
 thinking about what one has observed. Why is 
 this habit cultivated by learning to draw or to 
 color ? Because, whenever the thinking mind comes 
 to use forms, its use of them involves thinking of 
 them ; and not only so, but involves being trained to 
 think through the use of them. Most of us are not 
 aware of the extent to which we think through this 
 use of forms. We fancy that we think through the 
 use of words. So we do, but only so far as words 
 have been made arbitrarily to take the place of 
 forms. We think in dreams, do we not? In these, 
 what are we doing except thinking? Yet how many 
 words do we seem to hear in our dreams? The 
 vast bulk of our experience then appears to pass 
 before consciousness in visible pictures. The same 
 may be affirmed of what occurs during our reveries, 
 though we seldom analyze these sufficiently to dis- 
 cover the fact. There is reason, too, to suppose 
 that this thinking through the use of pictures is the 
 primitive, elementary method. Of what is a dog 
 conscious when he wags his tail, both when dream- 
 ing in sleep, and when leaping in moods wide- 
 
122 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 awake? He never uses words. Wliy should we 
 suppose him ever to have words in his mind? The 
 only rational supposition seems to be that, when he 
 thinks of a bone and by his actions asks for one, he 
 has a vision of it. So with all animals, and with 
 children who have not learned to talk. So, too, 
 with grown people, much more frequently than 
 most of them realize. We all know that the man 
 who makes a large use of illustrations and figures, 
 the imaginative man, or the man sufficiently imagi- 
 native to give a graphic as well as logical form to 
 his thought, is, as a rule, a more successful ora- 
 tor than the man who does not. Why? It is because 
 he is addressing his audience according to methods 
 of the mind's nature which operate in a different and 
 deeper way than is exemplified in plain language. 
 He is communicating his thought not merely as it 
 has assumed shape when formulated on the lips, 
 but as it emerges into consciousness, when con- 
 ceived in the mind. So far as possible, without the 
 intervention or interference of audible forms be- 
 tween his conceptions and his hearers' conceptions, 
 or between what he apprehends and what he de- 
 sires to have them apprehend, he is bringing that 
 which is in the depths of his own spirit into direct 
 contact with the depths of their spirits. In this 
 way, he is often making them do more than merely 
 understand. He is leading them, step by step, 
 through all the processes of his own mind, starting 
 with these processes at the very springs of psychic 
 action. He is influencing them as if they were ex- 
 pressing their own thought. In making them visual- 
 ize this, he is making them, for themselves, vitalize 
 it, — making them feel and realize it in a way impos- 
 
MENTAL DISCIPLINE IN DRAWING 123 
 
 sible according to any other method. It is true that 
 words, after they have come to have conventional 
 meanings, are the tools through the use of which the 
 human being thinks. Their value in giving defi- 
 niteness, distinctness, and availability to thought 
 cannot be overestimated. It is true, too, that after 
 thought has once become associated with a word, 
 the form of this, like the form of an arch in archi- 
 tecture, or of a phrase in music, may be developed 
 and elaborated by being joined and harmonized 
 with other forms, all according to laws of grammar 
 or of rhetoric that have to do with form alone. But 
 a word, as first invented, is merely a name, merely 
 a convenient implement for the purpose of fixing 
 and holding a conception so that it can be used in 
 speech and writing. This is no place, and there is 
 no time here, in which to discuss the origin of lan- 
 guage. It is a large subject, and a perfect lan- 
 guage has many sources. Certain authorities make 
 much, and others make little, of the represen- 
 tative elements in it, i.e., of words like hiss, buss, 
 rattle, supposed to be derived from the sounds of 
 things heard, and of other words, especially com- 
 pounds, like overlook, pastime, undertake, supposed 
 to be derived from the appearances of things seen. 
 But all admit that words are symbols, if not repre- 
 sentative, then arbitrary. This is the same as to 
 say that they contain such thought alone as has 
 been formulated, as has, therefore, been rendered 
 definite and finite. But thought itself must include 
 many suggestions of the infimite. Therefore the 
 devil, as representative of the finite rather than the 
 infinite, had a good reason for advising the student 
 in Goethe's Faust to confine his discussions of a 
 
124 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 proposition supposed to express truth, to the con- 
 sideration of words. Some appear to think that, 
 not only in logic but in poetry, these are all that 
 need to be considered. Let the words be arranged 
 so as to sound musical, and we have a great poet. 
 There could be no more decided error. One might 
 as well say that a man who can produce a great 
 noise by ordering thousands of guns to be fired si- 
 multaneously is a great general. The noise has 
 nothing to do with the generalship except so far as 
 it represents, in different parts of a battlefield, the 
 bodies of troops that are moving forward and 
 carrying to successful development the plan of at- 
 tack. So in poetry, the sounds of the words have 
 little to do with poetic achievement except so far 
 as by being picturesque — individually and collec- 
 tively — they represent the forms — some of them 
 audible it is true, but most of them merely visible 
 ■ — that are moving forward and carrying to success- 
 ful development that which is in the poet's imagina- 
 tion. I once heard a remark attributed to the 
 French dramatist, Scribe, to the effect that when 
 he was composing he always seemed to be looking 
 at his characters moving before him on the stage. 
 This tendency to think by describing what appears 
 to be seen, is common, in fact, probably necessary, 
 to all those who produce works of the imagination. 
 It is because of the ability to perceive inward expe- 
 riences as if they were outwardly present, that 
 many great poets — and some of the very greatest — 
 poets like Dante and Milton, have been what we 
 may term natural, if not proficient, mathematicians, 
 or at least, geometricians. In speaking of Univer- 
 sity experiences at Cambridge, you may recall what 
 
MENTAL DISCIPLINE IN DBAWING 125 
 
 Wordswortli says. I quote from the sixth book of 
 his " Prelude." 
 
 "My inner judgment 
 Not seldom differed from my taste in books. 
 
 In fine 
 
 I was a better judge of thoughts than words. 
 
 Yet must we not entirely overlook 
 
 The pleasures gathered from the rudiments 
 
 Of geometric science 
 
 'Tis told by one whom stormy waters threw, 
 
 With fellow sufferers by the shipwreck spared, 
 
 Upon a desert coast, that, having brought 
 
 To land a single volume, saved by chance, 
 
 A treatise of Geometry, he wont, 
 
 Altho of food and clothing destitute. 
 
 And beyond common wretchedness deprest, 
 
 To part from company and take this book 
 
 (Then first a self-taught pupil in its truths) 
 
 To spots remote, and draw his diagrams 
 
 With a long staff upon the sand, and thus. 
 
 Did oft beguile his sorrow, and almost 
 
 Forget his feelings; so (if like effect 
 
 From the same cause produced, 'mid outward things 
 
 So different may rightly be compared) 
 
 So was it then with me, and so will be 
 
 With poets ever. Mighty is the charm 
 
 Of those abstractions to a mind beset 
 
 With images and haunted by herself. 
 
 And specially delightful unto me 
 
 Was that clear synthesis built up aloft 
 
 So gracefully; even then when it appeared 
 
 Not more than a mere plaything or a toy 
 
 To sense embodied." 
 
 All this is the same as to say that the poet natu- 
 rally thinks through the use of images. He seems 
 to see outwardly the things that he describes. He 
 seems to hear outwardly the things that he utters. 
 There is a further result of this tendency, and one 
 which it is extremely important that those who deal 
 with art should recognize. It is this : when the mind 
 gets into a habit of thinking through the use of 
 images, it gets into a habit of having thoughts sug- 
 
126 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 gested by these images, or, as we say, of interpret- 
 ing their significance. All of us know this. We 
 know that a philosophical botanist — to say nothing 
 of a poet like Wordsworth — ^will have scores of 
 thoughts suggested to him by a scene in nature, 
 which would never occur to most of us. Now these 
 scenes in nature, — ^what are they? They are visible 
 representations of the life and methods at the 
 source of nature. They are illustrations, through 
 the appearances and operations of nature, of what 
 we mean when we speak of divine laws, principles 
 and truths. I think that everyone admits that one 
 of the chief missions to the world of great poetic 
 and artistic minds, like those of Dante, Angelo, 
 Shakespeare, Eaphael, and Goethe, is that they in- 
 terpret rightly these laws, principles and truths. 
 If so, is it not of great advantage for the individual 
 and for the race to have cultivated in the growing 
 generation habits of mind which tend to enable all 
 to recognize easily, when pointed out, and some- 
 times to recognize for themselves, the import of 
 that which the forms both of art and of nature, 
 whether human or merely physical, are fitted- to 
 suggest? 
 
 I have said enough, I think, to indicate what I 
 mean, when I claim that learning to observe forms 
 and to think about them has a great deal to do with 
 learning to think properly, which includes the con- 
 ception not merely of thinking imaginatively, but 
 also accurately, thoroughly and comprehensively, 
 and in such a way as to be able to present intelli- 
 gently and graphically the results of these modes 
 of thinking. 
 
 But besides developing the powers of observa- 
 
MENTAL DISCIPLINE IN DBAWING 127 
 
 tion and reflection, the study which we are consid- 
 ering cultivates what we may term the power of 
 mental construction. Mental construction is the 
 source of that which has not before existed, either 
 as an intellectual or material product. The Hon. 
 Frederick I. Allen, the present United States Com- 
 missioner of Patents, has recently been delivering 
 a course of lectures on patent law in the graduate 
 department of the George Washington University. 
 He told me, the other day, that with reference to 
 what he considers the most important part of what 
 he had to say, he had not found one syllable in any 
 law book. He had found it in the writings of the 
 psychologists, of men like John Lock, Sir William 
 Hamilton, Alexander Bain, William James and J. 
 Mark Baldwin, to which names, with his usual cour- 
 tesy he added Eaymond. One fact he told me had 
 struck him as particularly interesting, — and this is 
 what suggested his mentioning the subject to me. 
 On returning from one of his lectures, he took up 
 my " Eepresentative Significance of Form," and 
 found that the same two passages of poetry, which 
 I had quoted in order to illustrate the action of the 
 artist's imagination, he had just quoted to illus- 
 trate the action of the inventor 's imagination. The 
 point of the argument which he was enforcing was 
 this, — that a principle or law which has never been 
 applied in invention can have no existence until it 
 has been given a form; and it cannot be given a 
 form until the image of it has been conceived in the 
 mind. Therefore, in order to be able to invent, a 
 mind must, first of all, be able to think in images. 
 This is the same as to say that an original product, 
 before it can become real, must be ideal, — in other 
 
128 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 words, that the main difference between the action 
 of the mind in physical construction and in meta- 
 physical, is in the order of time in which the one or 
 the other appears. After the preliminary work in 
 the imagination, the arts separate. That which the 
 mind seems to see, the poet records in words, the 
 painter in pigments, the architect in brick and 
 mortar, the machinist in wood and iron. The princi- 
 ple exemplified in art is exemplified in other depart- 
 ments of action. A scientist, philosopher or states- 
 man is often successful in the degree alone in which 
 he is able to visualize the material effects of a col- 
 lection of facts, principles or motives, in such a way 
 as to substitute for the chaos in which they ordi- 
 narily appear, what we term a well outlined sys- 
 tem. There is no radical difference in mental ac- 
 tion between planning a military campaign executed 
 by force through the agency of bullets, and a po- 
 litical campaign executed by words through the 
 agency of ballots. 
 
 I have said enough to show the importance, in a 
 general educational scheme, of a phase of study 
 tending to cultivate the powers of mental observa- 
 tion, reflection and construction. There are other 
 reasons for the same study. But to consider these 
 does not enter into the object of the present paper. 
 It may be well, however, in a single paragraph to 
 point out to what extent that which has been said 
 really involves, if it does not underlie all that might 
 be said on the subject. Why should not instruction 
 in drawing, as given to children, be the beginning, 
 on their part, of a conception of the aims of all art, 
 — a beginning of knowledge concerning the results 
 of practise in it, of appreciation of the effects of 
 
MENTAL DISCIPLINE IN DRAWING 129 
 
 acquiring skill in it, of discrimination in judging of 
 its products, and of sympathy with the suggestions 
 of its import? Art, in all its phases, is merely a 
 compend of lifelong studies in nature and in hu- 
 man conditions, reported by those with excep- 
 tional powers of perception, insight and inference. 
 If men are to become wise, they must have expe- 
 rience. If they cannot travel and become per- 
 sonally acquainted with different parts of the 
 world, and its inhabitants, they must derive their 
 experience from those who can do so. There is no 
 more efficient way of deriving this than from the pic- 
 tures, poems, dramas, and novels of great artists. 
 But the effects of art are so subtle, they depend 
 upon so many complex causes, that one can derive 
 comparatively little from it, until he has learned to 
 do so. And when he has learned this, the result is 
 so connected with everything in his whole complex 
 constitution, with both mind and soul, that not only 
 his intellectual but his spiritual experience is en- 
 larged almost beyond measure. Yes, many innu- 
 merable 
 
 "Things there are that art can do for man 
 To make him manlier. Not the senseless rock 
 Is all it fashions into forms of sense, 
 But senseless manhood, natures hard and harsh, 
 Great classes crusht, and races driven to crawl 
 Till all their souls are stained with smut and soil — 
 More human seem these, when the hands of art 
 Have grasped their better traits and hold them forth. 
 And men who see these better traits, and see 
 The tender touch of art that holds them forth. 
 Behold a beauty never else beheld; 
 And all their hearts beat more humanely while 
 They heed the pleas of these humanities." 
 
 — Ideals Made Real: Baymond. 
 
 It is no slight privilege to be able to take a child 
 by the hand and to lead him, if only a little way. 
 
130 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 and to get him interested, if only slightly, in a path 
 that tends where all perceptions are rendered more 
 keen, all apprehensions more thorough, all activi- 
 ties more inventive and all sympathies more uni- 
 versal. 
 
MUSIC AS RELATED TO THE OTHER AETS 
 AND TO ARTISTIC CULTURE * 
 
 " In the beginning " is a phrase that can be 
 rightly applied to the acts of only one Being; and 
 the nature and methods of this Being are to us in- 
 conceivable. Work as we may in the world, we 
 can never get back to that in which anything starts, 
 nor trace it to that in which it ends. All that we can 
 do is to accept what happens to be near us, and to 
 relate this to what may be supposed to exist in re- 
 gions remote from us. We are accustomed to 
 think that our deeds will prove wise in the degree 
 in which they are actuated by rationality; but 
 the chains of human reason, like those of great sus- 
 pension bridges on foggy days, usually rest at both 
 ends in the clouds, and can appeal to thought so far 
 only as they have first appealed to faith. 
 
 This fact is evident in the history of all the arts 
 and sciences. The development of none of them 
 started at its logical beginning, or is likely to end 
 at its logical conclusion; tho between the two ex- 
 tremes, like everything human, it has manifested 
 no little logical consistency, always, however, suf- 
 fering modification as, at either extreme, that which 
 can be fully comprehended is extended. 
 
 To indicate the application of this thought to our 
 
 * Delivered before the Musie Teachers ' National Association, at 
 Washington, D. C, December, 1908, and printed in its records. 
 
132 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 subject, the arts did not begin witli the develop- 
 ment of that which manifests itself earliest in hu- 
 man experience. Certain conventional methods of 
 poetry, if not the laws determining them, were rec- 
 ognized long before anything sustaining similar re- 
 lations to music was recognized; and the same can 
 be affirmed of the methods imderlying painting or 
 sculpture as contrasted with those underlying 
 architecture; yet in the life of every human being 
 the cooing, crying, shrieking and other inarticu- 
 lated intonations that constitute the elements of ex- 
 pression developed in music antedate by many 
 months the use of articulated words such as are de- 
 veloped in poetry; as also the vague attacks of 
 palm and fist upon the structure of natural sur- 
 roundings antedate the defter use of thumb and 
 fingers, as in drawing and modeling. Amid the 
 mists at either end of the suspension bridge upon 
 which it has been intimated that life is apt to find 
 itself traveling, the mind of art expends its thought 
 first upon that which it sees most clearly, and only 
 later looks behind this and beyond it. The condi- 
 tion is a natural one. It is difficult, and takes time, 
 to discover and explain how the elements of mere 
 sound and building — the elements of mere intona- 
 tion and constructions-can give vent to that imita- 
 tive process, with which, primarily, all art is asso- 
 ciated ; but it is comparatively easy to discover and 
 explain how the same can be true of written lan- 
 guage and painted pictures. As soon, however, as 
 the artistic value of intonation and construction 
 has become apparent, the logical tendency to which 
 reference has been made — the tendency to link con- 
 ceptions together and to form a unity of them all — 
 
MUSIC AND CULTURE 133 
 
 begins to manifest itself not only in the new arts of 
 music and architecture, but in new phases of effects 
 manifested in the other older arts. It is to the in- 
 fluence of music upon these and upon all forms of 
 culture naturally associated with them that I wish 
 now to call your attention. 
 
 Let us begin by noticing some effects of the mere 
 recognition, already suggested as important, of the 
 extent to which thought and feeling may be ex- 
 prest through inarticulated intonations, as dis- 
 tinguished from articulated words. In primitive 
 times, the poetry of a word or phrase was deter- 
 mined by its appeal less to what we may term the 
 ear of the mind than to its eye. By words appeal- 
 ing to the ear, I mean those like hiss, rush, roar, 
 rattle, evidently originated by the recognition of 
 resemblances between meaning and sound. By 
 words appealing to the eye, I mean those like up- 
 right, shady, forerunner, turnover, used in what is 
 termed a metaphorical sense, and evidently origi- 
 nated in a desire to represent or picture certain 
 conditions or relationships of thoughts that are 
 not visible, because inside the mind, through refer- 
 ences to conditions or relationships that are visible, 
 because in the external world. It is words of this 
 latter kind upon which the earliest poets seem to 
 have depended mainly for their efforts. In fact, 
 the vast majority not only of metaphors, to which 
 indirect reference has been made, but of similes, 
 and of all phases of what are termed figures of 
 speech, recognized, even in our own day, as pecul- 
 iarly characteristic of poetic language, are traceable 
 to this tendency to put thought into forms appeal- 
 ing to the eye. Attempts to cause poetry to repre- 
 
134 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 sent its meanings through, the use of mere sounds 
 were very limited until long after the period of the 
 most ancient poetry. Ehythm, assonance, allitera- 
 tion, rhyme, and particularly what are termed the 
 tunes of verse, and the selection of different meters 
 for the presentation of different sentiments and 
 subjects, were all of them more or less late develop- 
 ments in the history of the art. That this was so, 
 is probably owing to their not being thought of tUl 
 after men had become acquainted with musical ef- 
 fects. But whatever may have been the genesis of 
 these earlier poetic methods, it is undoubtedly a 
 fact that only since the marvelous advances in mu- 
 sical theory and practise that have been made in the 
 last two centuries have there been such experiments 
 in the melody and harmony of verbal arrangements 
 as have given rise to products like some of those of 
 Tennyson, Poe and Swinburne. There is no doubt, 
 too, that this influence of music upon poetry has, 
 to an extent, been beneficial. At the same time 
 nothing human, whether we apply the term to char- 
 acter or to characteristics, is ever wholly benefited 
 in case external agencies be allowed to master traits 
 peculiar to its own individuality. Poetry whose 
 distinctive features are subordinated to those of 
 music or of any other art, may become unpoetic; 
 and if they be only partly subordinated, it may be- 
 come partly unpoetic. No form of influence that a 
 man can exert in this world is so certain to prove 
 successful that, in his efforts to produce it, he can 
 afford to ignore the importance of concentration. 
 Indeed, it might be argued that one reason why the 
 poetry of the present is so little read, and has so 
 little influence, is because of its disregard of this 
 
MUSIC AND CULTUBE 135 
 
 simple fundamental principle. One takes up a 
 magazine or a book of the day, and sees type ar- 
 ranged in the form of verse. He notices in the 
 successions of syllables an abundance of music, per- 
 haps. But the writers have evidently forgotten — 
 not wholly but largely — that which, when poetry be- 
 gan, gave it its nature and value. In what he reads, 
 he finds little visualizing of invisible thought, little 
 formulation of unformed suggestions, little projec- 
 tion of definite ideas from regions of indefiniteness, 
 little illuminating truth shining out brilliant as a 
 star from vague depths of apparently unfathomable 
 significance. He can read page after page of this 
 modern so-called poetry from which it is hardly 
 possible to obtain by mining a single word or phrase 
 such as is everywhere on the surface, and which the 
 most casual glance reveals sparkling like a gem, not 
 only in the products of the ancient classic poets, but 
 of all the great modern poets like Dante, Shake- 
 speare and Goethe. 
 
 All this is not said in disparagement of music. It 
 is a tribute to the power that it can exert, and has 
 exerted. By and by, too, when poetry has recov- 
 ered from the apparent paralysis following the 
 shocks of the first impingements upon it of these 
 mere sound-effects; when, resuming self-control, 
 it again moves on in ways natural to itself, these in- 
 fluences that have been exerted upon it, like those 
 exerted, at times, upon a hazed Freshman, may 
 prove, by no means, wholly evil. They may be 
 found to have added decidedly to the value of 
 poetry, if, for no other reason, because of having 
 added to the difficulty of producing it. To some, at 
 first thought, mere difficulty in the process of pro- 
 
136 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 duction may not seem to supply any legitimate test 
 of artistic excellence. But, certainly, this test ap- 
 plies to some arts — to sculpture, for instance, in 
 which apparently living form is chiseled from life- 
 less stone — and a little thought will convince us that 
 it applies, to some extent, to other arts. Indeed, 
 there are none of them in which the recognition of 
 particular obstacles overcome does not increase 
 men's appreciation of the general result. This fact 
 is due not merely to that association of ideas in our 
 minds which inevitably relates the artistic to the 
 skilful, but also to that which relates the artistic to 
 the expressional, "When a man polishes a diamond 
 its beauty is due, in a sense, to its appearance, and 
 to what his polishing has added to its appearance ; 
 but, in another sense, the beauty is due still more 
 to the surrounding light which his polishing has en- 
 abled the diamond to reflect. The poet who never 
 allows himself to use an imperfect rhyme, or, ex- 
 cept for reasons in the sense, to use words contain- 
 ing consecutive letter-sounds that do not harmonize, 
 is likely, on account of the very attention that he 
 pays to the expression, to make the expression seem 
 worthy of attention; and, not only so, but to make 
 that which is exprest seem worthy of attention. We 
 wonder, at times, why certain modern poets prefer 
 to write plays in blank verse. Most of us ascribe 
 the reason to, the influence of tradition. But there 
 is a better reason than this. Foot and line impose 
 limits upon expressional form. The necessity for 
 conciseness in the language impels to conciseness in 
 the thought. Thought like light never becomes 
 really brilliant, never flashes, except from a form in 
 which its rays are concentrated. The sun's influ- 
 
MUSIC AND CULTURE 137 
 
 enee on a bright day is pervasive ; it is everywhere ; 
 but its beams never sparkle from the whole surface 
 of a pool or lake, — only from places where in this 
 they touch some single small drop, or collection of 
 small drops. 
 
 The influence of music upon painting, sculpture: 
 and architecture is just as noteworthy as uponj 
 poetry. Not until, at least, the rhythm of music — ' 
 to say nothing of its tune — began to affect the hu- 
 man nerves, did the man begin to dance, and not 
 until he began to dance, did his arrested attitudes 
 begin to emphasize those effects of grace which, per- 
 haps, most clearly differentiate the portrait from 
 the snap-shot photograph and the genre painting 
 from the portrait. It is not too much to say, there- 
 fore, that some lessons learned from the influence 
 of music upon the human form are illustrated in 
 almost all pictures and statues, whether considered 
 as ends in themselves, or as ornamenting architec- 
 ture. But more than this can be said. The under- 
 lying significance of all straight lines, angles and 
 curves, whenever or wherever seen, is subtly con- 
 nected with the expressional uses of the same in the 
 poses assumed by the various limbs of the human 
 body. Man is so limited in outlook, so self -centered 
 in insight, that he is obliged to interpret not only 
 God but all nature and its manifestations in accord- 
 ance with his own experience and actions. So, in- 1 
 directly, the same strains of music that cause danc- 
 ing, and thus tend to the exhibition of gracefulness 
 in the human form, have an influence on the artistic 
 qualities of other of the visible forms that become 
 subjects of art-production. 
 
 A connection, less subtle, perhaps, in nature, and, 
 
138 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 therefore, more generally recognized, is that which 
 has been observed and studied ever since the time, 
 at least, of Pythagoras. This is found in the analogy 
 between the ratios representing the respective 
 lengths of cords producing musical harmony and the 
 measurements of spaces producing harmonious pro- 
 portions in objects of sight. All that men have 
 learned from the study of ratios as applied now to 
 so many effects in painting, sculpture and architec- 
 ture, was wholly suggested and started by what 
 they had learned from music. There are indica- 
 tions, too, that in the future much more may be ac- 
 quired from the same source. The analogy be- 
 tween the effects of rhythm and of proportion 
 seem to have been fully established. It may not be 
 long before the same can be also said — and said in 
 a sense not now fully conceivable — of the analogy 
 between the effects of tone and pitch and those of 
 color. It is certainly significant, as showing the 
 tendencies of artistic feeling in this direction, that 
 the one form of entertainment in which, through 
 adaptations of modern facilities for electric illumi- 
 nating, there is an endeavor to produce varied and 
 harmonious effects of color, in and of itself, is uni- 
 versally connected with music. Nothing of the kind 
 seems as yet to accompany the drama, either tragic 
 or comic; but it is getting to be very common in 
 the ballet and the opera. As pointing in the same 
 direction, another fact seems even more significant. 
 It is, at any rate, more clearly significant. Only 
 since there has come to be a scientific study of the 
 philosophic reasons underlying the laws of musical 
 harmony and composition — such a study as is ex- 
 emplified in the great work of Helmholtz on " The 
 
MUSIC AND CULTVBE 139 
 
 Sensations of Tone " — has there been a study of 
 the effects of color-harmony and composition of 
 such a nature and with such a purpose as is mani- 
 fested in the painting of the modern impressionists. 
 This form of painting might be defined as that in 
 which the effects of outline — if not wholly absent as 
 sometimes seems to be the case — are at least, more 
 or less, subordinated to those of color. The endea- 
 vor appears to be to influence the eye by means of 
 color aside from shapes in a way analogous to that 
 in which, in music, the ear is acknowledged to be in- 
 fluenced by sounds aside from words. Is it possible 
 to suppose that such effects would ever have been 
 attempted, if it had not been for suggestions de- 
 rived from music? It is interesting to notice, too, 
 that, when carried to excess, impressionism, which 
 may be described as painting influenced by the mu- 
 sical motive, is apt to prove unsatisfactory owing 
 to neglect of the natural requirements of picturing 
 in outline, in exactly the same way in which, as was 
 pointed out a moment ago, poetry, influenced by the 
 musical motive, is apt to prove unsatisfactory owing 
 to its neglect of the requirements of picturing in 
 words. One can no more make a thoroughly suc- 
 cessful painting without lines that, at least, suggest 
 to the mind a very definite form than he can make 
 a thoroughly successful poem without words and 
 phrases that do the same. Nevertheless, just as the 
 influence of music on verse has been, in part, bene- 
 ficial, so too has been its influence, so far as ex- 
 erted, in the directions of which I have been speak- 
 ing, upon the use of pigments. The conceptions 
 which underlie modern impressionism will probably 
 never cease to manifest themselves, and in ways. 
 
140 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 too, perfectly legitimate to the art of painting. 
 Possibly, they may lead to other results as yet 
 hardly foretokened. We know how Wagner en- 
 deavored to blend into unity the effects of music as 
 combined with those of the other higher arts, espe- 
 cially those of poetry, painting and architecture. 
 One of these days, a similar endeavor may be made 
 in more subtle directions. If colors, as well as mu- 
 sical notes, be traceable to vibrations, why might not 
 harmony — scientifically accurate harmony, too — be 
 produced for the eye as well as for the ear, and pos- 
 sibly for both, at one and the same time? Why 
 should the developing of this color-harmony and the 
 determining of its laws of consonance, modulation, 
 transition and progress require much more insight, 
 ingenuity and constructive ability than has been 
 manifested in developing our present system of mu- 
 sical harmony from the crude conceptions of it held 
 by the ancient Greeks ? 
 
 It must be confessed that this thought is suggest- 
 ive of something incongruous. If the mind can 
 ever be affected by color in exactly the same way 
 as by sound, then coloring, like music, may become 
 an art setting in motion the general drift of thought 
 and feeling, but leaving imagination free to formu- 
 late what evolves from the drift. Because exerting 
 this kind of influence upon the sources rather than 
 the results of thinking, music never, even when used 
 in worship, tends to dogmatism and bigotry as do, 
 sometimes, the words of hymns, or to idolatry and 
 superstition as do, sometimes, pictures and statues. 
 Its tendencies to a greater extent than those of any 
 of the other arts except, perhaps, architecture, are 
 spiritual and religious. It would be strange if the 
 
MUSIC AND CULTURE 141 
 
 play of electric light on the stage of the comic opera 
 and the ballet should lead, some day, to a new art 
 — probably of decoration, tho possibly of perform- 
 ance — which philosophers would have a right to 
 associate with the distinctively spiritual and reli- 
 gious. But it would not be the first time that the 
 world has had experience of such results. Most of 
 us have heard the same kind of music that summons 
 the wild Indian tribes to a war-dance used to collect 
 the throngs of the Salvation Army; and, if we live 
 long enough, we may hear, in many a Sunday-school, 
 the melody of the Merry Widow Waltz inciting to 
 all the virtues. If the teachings of history have 
 not been misinterpreted, we might have had none 
 of the harmony that renders possible the great an- 
 thems or masses of the present, had it not been for 
 the Bacchanalian street-airs brought together in 
 rounds, which so distrest the serious-minded Plato; 
 or introduced, to relieve, by way of variation, 
 the unisonance of solemn cathedral chants, in dis- 
 regard of consternation in the souls of the medie- 
 val priests.* It is well enough in this world for 
 us to have rules by which to govern our own opin- 
 ions and actions; but we should never forget that 
 some things may be overruled. Very often, we may 
 find that ' ' God hath chosen the foolish things of the 
 world to confound the wise." It is no proof that a 
 form of life or of art is undeserving of sovereignty 
 because it happens to have been born in a manger. 
 
 The influence of music has not been confined to) 
 the direct effects which it has exerted upon what, 
 may be termed the matter — the essential substancej 
 — of the other arts, as on rhythm, proportion and 
 
 *See the author's "Art in Theory," pp. 250-253. 
 
142 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 harmony of words and colors. The influence is still 
 more noteworthy, perhaps, in the indirect effects 
 which the methods of study and of mental discipline 
 and development peculiar to music have exerted 
 upon that which corresponds to them in the other 
 arts and in all forms of culture derived from these 
 arts or associated with them. 
 
 Notice the traces of this influence, first, in the les- 
 son which music teaches with reference to the univer- 
 sal applicahility of law, not only in all the arts, but, 
 by implication, in all nature. One can scarcely be- 
 ^n a musical education, before he is compelled to 
 recognize that there are fixt and invariable prin- 
 ciples connecting written music with executed mu- 
 sic; connecting the notes that can be played to- 
 gether in any one key; and connecting the chords 
 through which one key can be made to pass into 
 another. He soon comes to recognize, too, that the 
 mightiest master of melody and harmony who, as 
 he composes, seems to lose all consciousness of re- 
 straint and to give vent to absolutely untrammelled 
 promptings of inspiration, is not one who has risen 
 above the control of rules. He is one who has 
 studied and practised in accordance with them so 
 assiduously that not one cell in his brain can forget 
 them, or break from the habit of fulfilling them. 
 Every musical non-conductor has been, by repeated 
 effort, expelled not only from his conscious but from 
 his unconscious mind. Every nerve in his being 
 vibrates to the touch of harmony, and vibrates ac- 
 cording to law. 
 
 The fact of the universal prevalence of law finds 
 illustrations, of course, in all the other arts; but it 
 is emphasized in none of them; and, in some of 
 
MUSIC AND CULTURE 143 
 
 them, it is quite often disregarded. In almost 
 every picture gallery, one can see paintings pro- 
 duced by colorists who have evidently never mas- 
 tered the laws of drawing and proportion; or by 
 draftsmen who have never mastered the laws of 
 coloring. In almost every magazine, one can read 
 so-called poems produced by those who have evi- 
 dently never mastered the laws of verse or rhythm, 
 and, sometimes, not even those of grammar; while 
 almost all the carpenters or stonemasons in the 
 country, to say nothing of housewives or church 
 deacons, think that, upon occasion, without further 
 knowledge, they can be architects. Nothing influ- 
 ences the general conceptions of a community more 
 than the specific conceptions suggested by what 
 seems true of its art. This cannot manifest disre- 
 gard of law without cultivating more or less disre- 
 gard of the same in life, whether individual, social, 
 political or religious. There is a connection be- 
 tween thinking that anybody, without any guidance 
 of rules, can write a successful poem, or build a 
 successful house, and fancying that a promoter on 
 Wall Street can disregard the financial laws of the 
 street, and not do something toward bringing on a 
 financial panic; or that a lady of the " Four Hun- 
 dred " can turn her back upon her poor relations 
 violating thus the laws of both humanity and hos- 
 pitality, and not do something toward making them 
 turn their backs upon her, even to the extent, pos- 
 sibly, of causing them to enlist for a socialistic rev- 
 olution; or that a statesman, trusting to his own 
 personal popularity or eloquence, can ignore the 
 laws of diplomacy and the enactments of his prede- 
 cessors, and not do something to endanger the peace 
 
144 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 and prosperity of Ms coimtry; or that a leader in 
 the Church, under the impression that all that re- 
 ligion needs can be developed from his own unaided 
 self-consciousness, can break away from the laws 
 of form or purpose embodying the historic results 
 of the spiritual life of the past, and not do some- 
 thing to develop from himself the very evils that 
 religion and its methods are intended to prevent. 
 As a fact, everything with which we are brought 
 into contact in this world, works according to law. 
 But, so far as I know, the only art — of course, not 
 the only agency — that illustrates this fact, and 
 proves it to the satisfaction of everyone thoroughly 
 acquainted with the subject, is music. 
 
 Intimately connected with this influence in the 
 direction of an appreciation of the universal ap- 
 plicability of law is an influence in the direction of 
 a recognition of the importance of thoroughness. 
 The necessity for this follows logically upon what 
 has been said already. In an art in which every- 
 thing is done in accordance with law, nothing that 
 is done can be of no value. When results depend 
 upon chains of events, no link in the chain can be 
 allowed to be weak, much less to drop out. If, 
 therefore, a man be a musician, he must be thor- 
 ough so far as he goes. In singing a chorus, or in 
 playing an instrument, he must sound correctly not 
 some but all the notes. Otherwise, tho the error be 
 noticeable only once or twice, the whole effect will 
 appeal to people as discordant. Of all places in the 
 world in which superficiality can be tolerated, the 
 last place is in the art of music. A really great 
 poet, painter or architect may occasionally neglect 
 to obtain complete mastery over certain elements 
 
MUSIC AND CULTURE 145 
 
 of his art. His rhythm may be faulty, his rhymes 
 imperfect, his colors discordant, his spaces dispro- 
 portional. But in music there is no such analogous 
 possibility. A man is a musician so far as what he 
 presents is musical, and no further. If he be a 
 composer, and deviate from the conventional meth- 
 ods of modulation or transition, he must do this 
 consciously and for a reason, not on account of any 
 lack of knowledge. 
 
 It is impossible to suppose that the emphasis 
 given to thoroughness in musical education and 
 performance can fail to have an effect upon meth-j 
 ods of thought and action in other departments. ! 
 Is there nothing to awaken reflection in the fact^ 
 that Germany, the one country in which there has 
 been not only the highest but the most universal 
 development of musical culture, is also the one 
 country universally acknowledged to stand without 
 a rival as an exemplification of the results of thor- 
 oughness in all forms of scholarship? Is there not 
 something in this fact to suggest a patriotic as well 
 as an esthetic reason for desiring to promote in our 
 own land every form in which music can be studied? 
 Thoroughness as a characteristic of mental process' 
 or material production is very greatly needed , 
 among our people. We have qualities that, in 
 certain directions, seem sometimes capable of tak- 
 ing its place, — an unusual development of intui- 
 tion, insight, ingenuity, and power of initiative. 
 Nine times out of ten, perhaps, when an American 
 jumps to a conclusion, he can make a successful 
 landing; but the wise ought always to bear in mind 
 the fact that a single slip, at a critical moment, 
 may lose a whole race. No one can be so absolutely 
 
146 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 certain of his ground as tlie one who has learned 
 to be thorough. No one can have imprest upon his 
 mind the general importance of being this, through 
 any agency so well, or so inevitably, as through the 
 study of music. 
 
 This fact will become still more evident as we 
 notice the connection between thoroughness, and 
 another indirect influence attributable to this art — 
 the influence exerted through the emphasis placed 
 upon the necessity for skill. To say that, in every 
 sphere in which knowledge is demanded, knowl- 
 edge alone is not sufficient ; to say that one must be 
 able to apply his knowledge, is to utter a truism. 
 But it is a truism that needs to be uttered — over 
 and over again too — almost everywhere except in a 
 school of music. The student in this art, and, in a 
 sense not true of any other, expects to spend hours, 
 days, months, years, in a study of the same vocal 
 or instrumental exercises. He knows, too, that he 
 is often doing this not to add anything to his own 
 store of information, but merely to render avail- 
 able what information he already has. A poet, 
 painter, sculptor, architect may begin to work at 
 once on what he hopes may at some time become a 
 finished product; but never a musician. Neither 
 with voice nor fingers does he practise, at first, upon 
 what he hopes may prove acceptable in a public 
 performance. This is owing to the nature of music, 
 you say. Precisely, and I am trying to show how 
 music, owing to its very nature, cannot but influ- 
 ence conceptions and methods in other depart- 
 ments. My point is that exactly the same kind of 
 preliminary practise that is needed in order to 
 attain skill in music is needed in other departments, 
 
MUSIC AND GULTUBE 147 
 
 but that, in them, this fact is not recognized as it 
 should be. The only known way of acquiring skill \ 
 in any branch is through practise. So far as teach- 
 ers can train skill, they must do so by seeing to it 
 that the pupil does practise. A lesson upon this 
 subject might be learned from the teachers of Tur- 
 key and China. Their ordinary schools usually 
 make themselves heard a block or two away from 
 where they are situated. The children are all 
 studying out loud, — sometimes in concert, more fre- 
 quently in discord. Of course, this method can be 
 carried too far ; but, to an extent, it is effective. It 
 is simply a fact, proved in scores of cases, that a 
 very ordinary Oriental boy so trained, after he en- 
 ters academies and colleges in this country, is able 
 to hold his own with those at the head of his classes. 
 He is always, as a rule, superior to them in reciting 
 in studies that require a good memory, and he is not 
 one whit behind them in studies that require clear 
 thinking, like mathematics, sociology, philosophy 
 and the higher sciences. It is true — or was true 
 until very recently — that the Asiatics continue the 
 methods of the primary school in their universi- 
 ties ; and this is absurd. But it is equally true that, 
 with far too little attention to preparatory in- 
 struction, we begin the methods of the univer- 
 sity in our primary schools, and this is equally 
 absurd. 
 
 We need to have imprest upon our minds the 
 fact that drill and discipline are not merely a 
 subordiaate function, — they are the chief function 
 of education up to the period of adolescence. 
 Studies intended merely to inform or explain, in- 
 stead of being crowded down, as now, into periods 
 
148 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 earlier than this, should be crowded up and out, — 
 not because they have no importance, but because, 
 at this period, other mental requirements that it is 
 impossible to cultivate later in life have greater 
 importance. Exactly the same method pursued in 
 making a scholar in music should be pursued in 
 making any scholar. You want the man when 
 grown to be well informed. Very well, then, you 
 must sharpen his memory when young, so that the 
 information that he gets when older will stick. Ton 
 want the man, when grown, to be a thinker. Very 
 well, then. When young you must keep his mind 
 awake by quizzing — tickling it, even in the sense of 
 playing with it. Such questioning will accustom 
 him to search for what is inside his mind, to dive 
 into the depths of consciousness and to bring every 
 link in the chain of thought to the light. Hypnotize 
 him, and you will find that, however hidden, what 
 you want is inside of him. He has not forgotten or 
 lost any fact or principle that ever was his. He 
 merely fails to be able to recall or use it. If you 
 train him properly, he can do both. The difference 
 between a smoothbore cannon that shoots a quar- 
 ter of a mile, and falls wide of its aim, and a rifle 
 cannon that hits its mark several miles distant, de- 
 pends upon the way in which it has been drilled. 
 It is exactly the same with miads; and no one 
 realizes, or can realize, this fact quite as well as 
 one who has studied music. 
 
 There is another influence exerted by the form of 
 culture peculiar to music. It is from studying it 
 that many a child gets his first conception of the 
 possibility of receiving pleasure in connection with 
 education. This is true of the singing lesson 
 
MUSIC AND CULTUBE 149 
 
 not only of tlie kindergarten, but of the grammar 
 school. With intervals of great distaste, because of 
 the monotony of almost endless repetition, it is 
 true of private practise; and it becomes more true 
 still as the effects of practise result in facility of 
 execution. Some seem to think that the strenuous 
 work necessitated by drill never can accompany 
 that which can be termed pleasure. One theory of 
 our modern educational quacks — who seem to have 
 forgotten the experiences of their youth because 
 only imagination, which they have not, is able to 
 recall them — is that education should not be made 
 either hard or disciplinary; on the theory that it 
 cannot thus be made entertaining, — as if it could 
 not be, at one and the same time, both, — as if the 
 mind, like the body, did not enjoy exertion, and the 
 triumph of overcoming, in the very degree of the 
 difficulty involved! The idea of recommending a 
 game to a growing boy on the ground of its being 
 easy! In the olden times, some of the most pleas- 
 ant hours of almost every childhood were spent 
 when all the school were assembled together, in 
 order to be drilled. Of course, such a method of 
 teaching, to be interesting, requires an interesting 
 instructor; but so does any successful method of 
 teaching. 
 
 It may be true that a certain degree of education 
 can be obtained without the pupil's deriving pleas- 
 ure from his work ; but without this there can be no 
 great scholarship. In most departments, too, this 
 phase of pleasure is apt to be developed late in 
 educational experience. In no department is it 
 likely to be experienced as early in life as in music. 
 Perhaps this fact explains why it is that so many 
 
150 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 of the most enthusiastic students of medicine, 
 natural science, law, philosophy, theology, are 
 found, when we learn their history, to have been 
 in youth more or less proficient in some form of 
 the art that we are now discussing. The two facts 
 go together. The best day-laborer is usually one 
 who wakes up early in the morning. The best life- 
 laborer is usually one who has had something of 
 entertainment and interest to wake up his mind 
 early in life. 
 
 This thought suggests a transition to the last in- 
 fluence that will be mentioned as exerted by the 
 form of culture peculiar to music. This is the 
 prominence that it gives to the effects of person- 
 ality. In all the arts, as we know, it is these ef- 
 fects, manifested in what the artist puts into his 
 product or leaves out of it, that largely determine 
 its quality, that differentiate, for instance, a poet 
 from a reporter, or a painter from a photographer. 
 The same principle is illustrated in every relation- 
 ship in the world in which one life touches other 
 lives. It is that which brings one's personality to 
 bear upon his surroundings which makes a body 
 better than a carcass, reveals a spirit inside of a 
 body, and proves that life, in any sphere, is really 
 worth the living. In connection with this concep- 
 tion again, as when we were considering pleasure 
 in connection with drill, the association of ideas 
 may seem to some, at first, incongruous. What can 
 be more formless, and, because personality implies 
 the presence of form, more impersonal in its effects 
 than music? Yet let us think a moment. As in the 
 case of music, so poetry, painting, sculpture and 
 architecture all require an external product, — writ- 
 
MUSIC AND CULTUBE 151 
 
 ten notes, printed type, pictures, statues, buildings. 
 But of music alone can it be said that the full ef- 
 fects of tbe art — and this is still true, notwith- 
 standing the graphophone — require an interpreta- 
 tion on the part of some person — and generally not 
 the composer — ^who either plays upon an instru- 
 ment, or uses his voice. When we listen to a waltz 
 or to a song, unless we produce it ourselves, there 
 is always a medium or agent through whom the ef- 
 fects are communicated ; and in the degree in which 
 interest and pleasure are derived from the per- 
 formance, they are necessarily associated with this 
 agent. Undoubtedly many of those sitting before 
 me will be able to recognize how much more clearly 
 and universally, as contrasted with the remem- 
 brance of others, one can recall certain singers in 
 concert or opera, certain members of quartets, or 
 leaders of choruses or orchestras. When I was a 
 boy, I had many teachers with whom I spent many 
 whole days. But of not one of them could I draw 
 from memory as perfect a portrait as of all my 
 music-teachers whom I saw, only once or twice a 
 week, for only comparatively short periods. The 
 connection between teaching a branch which natu- 
 rally tends to cause one to exert a personal influ- 
 ence, and the possibility of reaching in the pupil 
 the sources of sympathy, opinion and conduct, 
 will be recognized by all. It is doubtlful whether 
 any position in life is susceptible of being used 
 for more purposes, or to secure more important 
 results. 
 
 The suggestions of this paper, however, have 
 been already too far extended. In it an attempt 
 has been made to show that there are certain prin- 
 
152 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 ciples essential to the very existence of every other 
 higher art, as at present developed, which are trace- 
 able to music alone; and that no esthetic influence 
 tends so decidedly as that which it exerts to keep 
 alive, in any department of culture, either a reali- 
 zation in theory or an actualizing in experience of 
 such effects as those of law, thoroughness, accu- 
 racy, practise, drill, pleasure in work, or person- 
 ality in presentation. If what has been said be 
 itrue, then the music-teacher stands in the very 
 front ranks of those who are leading the armies of 
 culture. Without what he, and he alone, is fitted 
 to contribute, no department of that army can be 
 fully equipped, and all the departments together 
 may fail of their purpose. Few of us in this world, 
 as we get older, can escape realizing that there are 
 very apparent limitations to our influence, — that 
 our lifework, large as, in youth, we hoped that it 
 might become, fills, after all, only a little space. 
 In one sense, of course, this is true. Considered by 
 itself alone, a single stone in a large building al- 
 most necessarily appears insignificant. But it need 
 not always be considered by itself. It may be con- 
 sidered in connection with other factors — in its re- 
 lations to what is below, about or above it. Thus 
 considered, if it be, in any sense, a keystone, then, 
 for the very reason that in itself it appears small 
 and unimportant, the interest and appreciation that 
 it awakens, may become very great. This fact is a 
 sufficient excuse for my presenting the present 
 paper. 
 
THE FUNCTION OF TECHNIO IN EXPRES- 
 SION ILLUSTRATED THROUGH 
 ELOCUTION * 
 
 The most distinctive influence of any person is 
 exerted through something that has to do with his 
 personality. No field of usefulness offers such 
 promise, therefore, as that in which good soil is 
 waiting for the seed of individual experience. The 
 invitation sent me by your committee to read a 
 paper on " The Function of Technic in Expres- 
 sion " was almost as tempting to my capacities for 
 garrulity as would be a question about warfare to 
 a veteran of Waterloo. General Sherman used to 
 say that war was hell. No soldier thinks it heav- 
 enly; and to none of us who have fought the good 
 fight of teaching, does the occupation suggest 
 either the largeness or the rest of that adjective. 
 Most of our lives have been spent in doing very 
 small things in a very wearying way, scattering, 
 like a farmer, the winnowings of straw in exceed- 
 ingly barren-looking furrows, and hoping that 
 Providence would do something with them. But 
 Providence seems mainly bent upon doing some- 
 thing with ourselves, usually measuring out the de- 
 gree of our success, like that of the great Teacher, 
 by the degree of our own self -development. Who- 
 ever is to lead others to high standards must him- 
 
 * Delivered before the National Association of Elocutionists, 
 Boston, June 24-29, 1895, and printed in its records. 
 
154 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 self have reached them first. If so, he is likely to 
 be tempted by the devil from the top of a moder- 
 ately high mountain. After an outlook and a draft 
 from the spring that is there, it is not easy to go 
 back to the marshes — sometimes, too, in the valley 
 of humiliation — and wait, and point, and draw, and 
 shove till lazy feet have jumped the ditches. 
 
 This is not the sort of occupation which, when 
 one entered upon the work, many expected, or any 
 desired. The inexperienced conception of a pro- 
 fessorship like ours is more likely to be that of a 
 man spending all his time in enlarging the range 
 of Demosthenes and Shakespeare by his own con- 
 tributions, blowing their dead phrases to a glow 
 with the breath of his own inflections, and starring 
 their every climax with the rays of his own ges- 
 tures ; above all, exhibiting his familiarity with the 
 very gods themselves, by pointing the end of every 
 criticism with a rocket bursting into a temporary 
 rivalry of Venus, Jupiter and Saturn and the 
 whole galaxy of the empyrean. 
 
 As a fact, however, no boy was ever more 
 cramped and smothered, while playing dumb ora- 
 tor, than some of us have been, spending so much 
 of our lives, as we have, almost literally kneeling 
 behind those who, but for us, would have had little 
 more influence in the world than the dumb and the 
 halt — and with what result? Not infrequently a 
 comic result; for this is a world of incongruities. 
 The born genius, to whom we have been conscious 
 of offering a few hardly-needed suggestions, may 
 thankfully attribute all his success to our efforts. 
 But the man whom we have literally created from 
 the diaphragm up, sending into certain parts of 
 
TECHNIG IN EXPRESSION 155 
 
 his lungs for the very first time the real breath of 
 life, is not seldom inclined to resent the impious 
 insinuation that to any influence less than that of 
 divinity could be attributed what he has become. 
 Gratitude is a spring whose flow is measured, 
 not by that which falls upon it from without, 
 but by that which is already stored in the depths 
 within. 
 
 So it happens, as already intimated, that most of 
 us recall the experiences of life as do soldiers. 
 Talk of the flush of victory ! There has been hardly 
 any of that; not much, even, of dress parade; but, 
 day in and day out, an endless drudgery of drill. 
 This is so because we have been teachers, especially 
 because we have been teachers of art, and for ex- 
 cellence in every art, as well as in that of warfare, 
 preliminary drill is indispensable. As applied to 
 most arts, this statement would not be disputed. 
 No one expects to become proficient in playing in- 
 strumental music until after having associated cer- 
 tain keys of a certain instrument with certain notes 
 in a printed staff, and after having done this and 
 passed from one key to another so many times that 
 the whole process, both of mind and of hand, has 
 become automatic. Nor does anyone expect to be- 
 come a painter until after a corresponding amount 
 of practise in imitating visible effects with brush or 
 pencil. But tell men that the same principle holds 
 good in elocution, and many of them demur. They 
 know that, while few finger instruments or paint 
 pictures, even in an elementary way, every man, in 
 a certain way, speaks and gestures; that he does 
 each by nature, and they argue that he can attain 
 perfection in it through doing, as the Puritans 
 
156 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 used to accuse the Universalists of doing in religion, 
 " merely as nature prompts." 
 
 " Don't study elocution," was the advice to his 
 students of a theological professor whom I once 
 knew; " be natural." He, himself, was a better 
 man than some of his brethren. He had evidently 
 practised what he preached. It had become natural 
 for him to put his watch inside his lips while lec- 
 turing, — not to cultivate his voice as Demosthenes 
 did with his pebbles ; not to show his faith in Provi- 
 dence like a glass-chewing dervish; not even to 
 swallow the glass and become a howling dervish; 
 but because he could do it, — possibly prided himself 
 on the fact. Nature had made him, through a sort 
 of chronic lockjaw, as incapable of opening his teeth 
 to let a watch go in as to let words come out. His 
 mistake was the common one of supposing a dis- 
 tinction to exist between the natural and the ar- 
 tistic. When technic is mastered, and its results 
 become automatic, they, themselves, tho not those 
 of nature in its primary sense, become those of a 
 second or acquired nature; and, in this condition, 
 the highest compliment possible for them, as well 
 as the highest tribute to their success, is given 
 when they are termed natural. But it is difficult 
 for some minds to recognize this fact. I have my- 
 self served on committees to award oratorical prizes 
 in colleges other than my own, when my colleagues 
 have advocated distributing the honors among those 
 whose gestures and tones thrust most apparently 
 upon attention, the fact that each had been care- 
 fully studied; in other words, among those whose 
 study had not been sufficient to conceal art and to 
 attain that naturalness to acquire which alone such 
 study is of any use. 
 
TECHNIC IN EXPRESSION 157 
 
 But if the result must be natural, why, it may be 
 asked, must it be produced by art? Because, when 
 a man turns from conversation to public address, 
 he has departed from the conditions of nature ; and 
 unless he have that rare artistic temperament which 
 enables exceptional minds to recognize instinctively 
 the new relationships and proportionments, each to 
 each, of the elementary elements of expression, he 
 cannot restore these conditions except as he ac- 
 quires skill through following the directions of 
 some instructor who has such a temperament. 
 
 Successfully changing private speech into public 
 speech involves much the same process as turning 
 a bug into a bird through the use of a microscope. 
 If you merely put one edge of the glass over his 
 head, or tail, or wing, this appears too large for the 
 rest of his body. Only when you hold your micro- 
 scope so as to magnify every part of him alike is 
 the result natural. When a man begins to talk in 
 public, he necessarily departs from the conditions 
 of nature by using a louder and higher tone and 
 more breath. As a result, he feels a tendency, at 
 the end of every long sentence, to lessen his force, 
 lower his pitch, and cease to vocalize all his breath. 
 But if he yield to this tendency, which now, as you 
 notice, has, in the changed conditions, become what, 
 in one sense, may be termed natural, he produces, 
 as in what is called the ministerial tone, a series of 
 intonations entirely different from those which, in 
 a far more important sense, can be termed natural. 
 In natural conversation, the last word of a sentence, 
 even if passing into a downward inflection, involves, 
 as a rule, the use of high pitch, loud force, and no 
 change in the amount of breath expended. Pos- 
 
158 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 sibly, too, a veteran in the service may be excused 
 for adding here, as a suggestion to the younger in- 
 structors present, that perhaps the hardest thing 
 to do in teaching elocution, as well as that which 
 contributes most to whatever success one may at- 
 tain, is connected with making one's pupils practise 
 until they have succeeded in maintaining the same 
 qualities of pitch, force and volume to the very ends 
 of the most of their sentences. Nothing, certainly, 
 can forever break up ministerial tones as well as 
 cultivating in them a habit of doing this. 
 
 But before private conversation can be turned 
 into acceptable public address, other changes have 
 to be made. When the general pitch is relatively 
 higher and the force louder, the pauses and inflec- 
 tions have to be relatively longer; in fact, as has 
 been intimated, every element of delivery has to be 
 proportionately magnified. So with the movements 
 of the body. Because the arms must be given a 
 slower and wider sweeps and the hands and whole 
 frame held longer in single positions, few, however 
 graceful by nature, can gesture gracefully, except 
 as a result of an artistic temperament, or of skill 
 acquired from the instructions of another who has 
 one. As for voice-building, the impossibility of 
 overcoming, without continued practise, wrong 
 methods of breathing, vocalizing or articulating is 
 so universally acknowledged that the subject needs 
 no mention here. 
 
 That which does need mention, that for which, 
 as I recognize, I have been asked to prepare this 
 paper, is connected with an answer to the question, 
 " How can the necessary instruction in elocution 
 best be given? " To this question let it be said, 
 
TECHNIC IN EXPRESSION 159 
 
 first of all, that there can be no unvarying answer. 
 Successful methods of instruction are usually de- 
 termined largely by the idiosyncrasies and circum- 
 stances of individual instructors. One man can 
 deal with large classes; another with only pupils 
 in private. One feels that he must start with voice- 
 building, another with intonation and gesture. A 
 man able to teach at all ought to be able to decide 
 upon his own course. Often only in the degree in 
 which he is left free to do this, is it possible for 
 him to infuse into his work that which is frequently 
 the most important element of success, namely, his 
 own individuality. But, while there is no uniform 
 answer to the question proposed, there are two 
 general aims to which it seems that the training of 
 the student should be directed: first, to a mastery, 
 one by one, of the elements of elocutionary form; 
 and, second, to a theoretical comprehension of the 
 significance represented in the use of each phase 
 of form. 
 
 In attaining these ends, my own circumstances 
 obliged me to adapt my methods to the fact that 
 elocution in both the institutions with which I have 
 been connected was a study required of all. The 
 department, therefore, had to be judged by the 
 way in which it succeeded in reaching all, and be 
 judged, too, in accordance with the severest pos- 
 sible test, a test which, if applied to other depart- 
 ments, would have necessitated holding all exami- 
 nations in public. Prof. Corson, in his admirable 
 work on the " Aims of Literary Study," makes a 
 remark to the effect that in our colleges, those 
 with natural aptitudes for elocution are selected 
 to appear before commencement audiences, and 
 
160 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 that the results are attributed not to nature, but 
 to the instruction received. During all but the first 
 half year in which I taught at Williams College, 
 every senior and junior, without exception, was 
 obliged to speak at evening exercises open not only 
 to the whole college, but also to the whole town. 
 The valedictory at commencement was invariably 
 given to the first man in the order of scholarship, 
 and the Mteen or twenty others who spoke with 
 him received their appointments for no other rea- 
 son than that they followed him in the same order. 
 When I took charge at Princeton, there was a law, 
 which remained in for,ce up to a time when illness 
 obliged me to be absent from the college, requiring 
 speaking before the college and the public from all 
 the seniors, unless excused by the faculty. On com- 
 mencement day about eighteen of the hundred or 
 more graduates spoke; and these were all taken 
 from about twenty-five of the higher scholars, one 
 of them being particularly selected on account of 
 proficiency in oratory as valedictorian. But I re- 
 call that for three years in succession, the student 
 entitled to the highest honor for scholarship, i.e., 
 the Latin salutatory, was chosen to deliver the vale- 
 dictory, in case he preferred to do so; and before 
 several commencements, upon my recommendation, 
 the privilege of speaking was made optional with 
 every man in the order of scholarship from the 
 head of the class down to the last needed in order 
 to fill out the requisite number. Thus, as you notice, 
 the reputation of the department had to depend 
 upon the average appearance of a large number of 
 students, and because scholarship mainly deter- 
 mined who these should be, the instruction had to 
 
TECH NIC IN EXPRESSION 161 
 
 be conducted in snch. a way that, as a rule, the same 
 diligence that secured high rank in other depart- 
 ments would secure it in oratory. 
 
 Again, as I was responsible for the oratory of 
 all the students in college, numbering, at one time, 
 almost six hundred, the circumstances obliged me 
 to adapt my methods to the necessity of economiz- 
 ing time. At one period, in Williams College, I 
 taught not only all the elocution, but also all the 
 rhetoric, including English Literature and Esthet- 
 ics. At Princeton, I always had the rhetoric of 
 public address, and, for a while, all Freshman rhet- 
 oric ; and tho, when my department was fully devel- 
 oped, it included an assistant professor and two in- 
 structors, I was always desirous, as Professor, not 
 only of Oratory, but also of Esthetic Criticism, of 
 finding time for lectures on the latter subject. It 
 was necessary, therefore, for me to do as much as 
 possible with the students assembled in classes. 
 But how can one, to collective bodies of students, 
 give instruction in manner without interfering with 
 their individuality of manner? Evidently only by 
 confining class instruction, if possible, to certain 
 features in which the manner of all, notwithstand- 
 ing differences in other regards, must be alike. 
 But are there such features? Why not? I, at 
 least, think that there are. There are certain 
 methods of using the lungs, tongue and palate 
 which are invariably the same in all persons when 
 speaking properly. There are certain methods of 
 emphasizing by means of pauses, inflections and 
 force which all orators, whenever they are holding 
 the attention of their audiences, no matter how 
 different may be their general styles, invariably 
 
162 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 employ; and there are certain methods of moving 
 elbows, wrists and fingers, the slightest deviation 
 from which invariably causes a gesture to seem 
 awkward. These methods, therefore, I thought 
 that one could separate from others, and safely 
 teach to students collectively. 
 
 In indicating the practical applications of these 
 conclusions, let me say first that voice-building, 
 with which many teachers rightly begin their in- 
 struction, I never attempted with the freshmen. 
 The voices of some of them were not sufficiently 
 matured for the practise necessary; and, besides 
 this, many could not perceive the importance of it 
 or be interested in it. But all were prepared to 
 find some interest and profit in the study of intona- 
 tion and gesture. Nor even when I began upon 
 voice-building, as I did sophomore year, could I 
 accomplish much by at first taking the whole class 
 together. After a single lecture, explaining breath- 
 ing movements, I found my best course was to ap- 
 point an hour when, once or twice a week, students 
 could come to me for a minute or two, and receive 
 each for himself, certain exercises adapted to his 
 individual requirements, which he was expected to 
 practise till the next appointment. After personal 
 instruction had thus insured right methods of mak- 
 ing the elementary movements of breathing, vocal- 
 izing and articulating, but not before this, as it 
 seemed to me, the class were prepared for con- 
 certed exercises, for which, sometimes in connec- 
 tion with lectures on other subjects, I or my as- 
 sistants met them once or twice a week, during the 
 junior and senior years. 
 
 Exactly the reverse of this order of instruction 
 
TECENIC IN EXPRESSION 163 
 
 was adopted in teaching intonation and gesture. 
 These subjects were begun in the freshman year, 
 and with bodies of students collected in classes, 
 the instruction, in accordance with what has been 
 said, being confined to the methods invariably em- 
 ployed by all persons when speaking properly. I 
 found that these methods were Violated not only on 
 account of the disproportionate use of some ele- 
 ments of emphasis as compared with others, to 
 which reference has been made already, but also 
 on account of unconscious imitation, as when a 
 country lad came echoing the ministerial tones of 
 his pastor. I found, too, that mistakes arising 
 from both causes could be corrected, to an extent, 
 by conscious imitation of right methods. 
 
 With the double purpose, therefore, of keeping 
 out of college false methods, which, if introduced, 
 might be imitated, and of cultivating true meth- 
 ods, which it would do less harm to have imitated, 
 weekly exercises were begun with the freshmen. 
 Once or twice the whole class met together, then 
 they were separated into divisions numbering, 
 when studying inflections, from fifty to twenty, 
 and, when studying gesture, from twenty-five to 
 twelve. Lectures were given on the substance of 
 certain material in my " Orator's Manual," which 
 they were told to review and to learn. One exer- 
 cise each was devoted to the general principles of 
 emphasis, to time and to force, and about three ex- 
 ercises each to inflections, to gesture and to miscel- 
 laneous reading. In connection with the lectures, 
 which were intended to explain the significance of 
 the form of emphasis described, the class, at some 
 time in every exercise was asked to repeat, clause 
 
164 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 by clause, after the instructor a certain declama- 
 tion in the ' ' Orator 's Manual, ' ' printed with which 
 are indications for pauses, inflections, force and 
 gesture. Every time this declamation was re- 
 peated, the attention of the student was directed to 
 a new subject; during the lecture on pauses, for 
 instance, to the pauses, and during the lecture on 
 inflections to these. Yet, every time, the instruc- 
 tor himself would use all of what I have termed 
 the essential and unvarying elements of vocal, and, 
 when gestures were reached, of visible emphasis. 
 This particular mode of practise was intended to 
 train the students for that which, at the beginning, 
 was, for half of them, a physical impossibility, 
 namely, to embody the emphasis in the form. As 
 applied to the use of the voice, the conception was 
 that the essential and unvarying elements of de- 
 livery, such as pauses and inflections, especially 
 downward ones started in connection with sus- 
 tained force at high pitch, have to be learned 
 through repetition precisely as is the case with a 
 tune in music. When it came to gestures, after 
 explaining their significance and methods of forma- 
 tion, the instructor spent a few hours in walking 
 from man to man, pulling into shape elbows, 
 wrists and fingers, while showing exactly how to 
 produce about a dozen movements, which, in my 
 opinion, include all that are necessary — not for 
 acting but for oratory. In subsequent exercises, 
 to accustom the student to make easy transitions 
 from one gesture to another, and to do this while 
 speaking, the class imitated the instructor, clause 
 by clause, while he added gestures to the declama- 
 tion already repeated so many times before. 
 
TECHNIC IN EXPRESSION 165 
 
 There were two principal reasons why I thought 
 it best to use the form of practise just described. 
 One reason was that, apparently, attention can be 
 best confined to tones and gestures, and to these 
 alone, when exemplified by the application of them 
 to a declamation already perfectly memorized, and, 
 therefore, requiring no effort to recall it. The 
 other reason was that half the freshmen of a col- 
 lege do not naturally take enough interest in a sub- 
 ject of this kind to practise outside of a recitation 
 room. Therefore, in order to teach them anything 
 at all, it seemed to me essential that I should my- 
 self oversee a certain amount of practise inside the 
 recitation room. In doing as I did, I pursued the 
 same course as when, in teaching rhetoric, I re- 
 quired essays, or parts of them, to be written in my 
 own presence. 
 
 That certain objections can be rationally urged 
 against some features of the kind of practise that 
 I have been describing, of course, I know. Under- 
 lying all of these objections is the general concep- 
 tion that it necessitates imitation. But what of 
 that? Every method of expression necessitates 
 imitation. Man is an imitative being. Children 
 imitate the tones and gestures of their parents; 
 and all grown people of the same countries — Irish- 
 men, Scotchmen, Englishmen — imitate those of one 
 another. So do all speakers in the same college. 
 What is it but carrying out the dictates of com- 
 mon sense for an instructor to avail himself of this 
 fact by taking steps to turn the imitative tendency 
 into right directions? 
 
 But imitation, it is said, cultivates methods of 
 delivery not characteristic of the speaker himself. 
 
166 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 and, therefore, destitute of individuality. This ob- 
 jection, if it can be proved, is certainly valid. But 
 can it be proved with reference to the methods just 
 described? If concerted practise be confined, as 
 has been explained, to effects which every success- 
 ful speaker produces in the same way, what harm 
 can be done by causing all one's pupils to produce 
 them in the same way? What these effects are has 
 already been indicated; but the truth of what has 
 been said of them can, perhaps, be clearly appre- 
 hended only as they are contrasted with other ef- 
 fects which there should be no endeavor to cause 
 pupils to produce in the same way. These other 
 effects are those directly dependent upon individ- 
 ual temperaments and tendencies. For instance, 
 there is the rhythm of the tones, and, sometimes, 
 the reach of the gestures especially, as determined 
 by the rate of the movement. Notice, however, 
 that as applied even to these matters, it is possible, 
 in class exercises, to repeat the same declamation 
 both in slow and in fast time, and thus to show the 
 student how, while words and gestures continue 
 similarly related, their general effects, absolutely 
 considered, may be different, and to show him, too, 
 how the rate of delivery should be determined by 
 his own individual constitution and interpretation. 
 As a result, some of those trained in the same class, 
 because naturally phlegmatic, will speak and move 
 slowly, and others, because naturally nervous, will 
 speak and move rapidly. 
 
 Again, there is the melody of the movement, as 
 determined by the intonations not of emphatic, but 
 of unemphatic words. Melody, as determined by 
 the emphatic words, can usually be shown to follow 
 
TECHNIC IN EXPRESSION 167 
 
 a fixt law, one manifestation of it meaning one 
 thing, and another meaning another thing. There- 
 fore, it can be taught to students collectively. But 
 melody, as determined by unemphatic passages, 
 can, without misrepresenting the sense, differ in 
 persons of different temperaments, or from differ- 
 ent localities, as in the accent of an Irishman as 
 contrasted with that of a Yankee. Therefore, in 
 my opinion, any class practise of this unemphatic 
 melody is hazardous. Indeed, even to private pu- 
 pils, it is often best taught when it is not taught. 
 In directing attention to it at all, there is always 
 some danger of tampering with individuality of ef- 
 fect, which is nowhere more clearly differentiated 
 than in these unemphatic passages. But, besides 
 this, to cause the student to think of them in any 
 way has a tendency to cause him to make them 
 emphatic, which is precisely what they ought not 
 to be. Their relation to what is emphatic, espe- 
 cially to the emphatic words, seems best preserved 
 when they are treated more as a flag is when at- 
 tached to a staff. Wave the staff in the right way, 
 and the waves of the flag will take care of them- 
 selves. It is mainly a disregard of this simple 
 principle that causes the artificial effects undoubt- 
 edly produced by some of the older systems, notice- 
 ably by that of Mandeville. So I think that in 
 nineteen cases out of twenty, perhaps, melody on 
 unemphatic passages can be left to take care of it- 
 self; and even with the twentieth man I myself 
 should try to cultivate flexibility by a general 
 course in voice-building before venturing upon 
 anything else. 
 What has just been said furnishes a partial an- 
 
168 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 swer to a still more serious objection soraetimes 
 urged against any practise that is even in the 
 slightest degree imitative. This is that it tends to 
 produce an unintelligent effect, i. e., to make deliv- 
 ery determined by certain requirements of form 
 irrespective of that in it which expresses thought 
 and feeling. There is no apprehension on my part 
 that any who have ever been pupils of mine, or who 
 are acquainted with my " Orator's Manual," or 
 with the tendency which that book, when first pub- 
 lished, introduced into the teaching of elocution, 
 will suppose this objection to be applicable to meth- 
 ods as actually practised by myself. But they 
 may suppose it to involve a theoretical deviation 
 from their own straight, if not narrow, principle. 
 Let us consider the question for a little from this 
 viewpoint. My theory is, that, in the degree in 
 which any essential characteristic of delivery is de- 
 fective, there is not a movement of the elbow, wrist 
 or fingers, of the lungs, larynx, palate or tongue, 
 which can be freed from defect except as a result 
 of automatic action acquired through a slow and 
 laborious practise of exercises, every feature of 
 which has been accurately described by the in- 
 structor and put into execution by the pupil; for 
 no matter how rapid or how slight a gesture or a 
 tone may be, the eye or the ear will be sure to de- 
 tect and feel any defect whatever in its expres- 
 sional quality. 
 
 The carrying to its logical conclusion of this con- 
 ception is what I conceive to be the application to 
 elocution of the requirements of technic. Against 
 this latter as necessitated in elocution, the objec- 
 tions urged are precisely the same as those urged 
 
TECHNIG IN EXPRESSION 169 
 
 against it as necessitated in any art. For this rea- 
 son, they would better be answered, perhaps, in a 
 general rather than in a specific way. Misunder- 
 standing of the relations to expression of technic, 
 and consequent suspicion of it, is common in our 
 own country. I sometimes think that it is consti- 
 tutional with us. Certainly no race manifests such 
 possibilities of error in this direction as does the 
 Anglo-Saxon. Many of us have apparently become 
 so accustomed to see a form used to express a 
 mental condition diametrically the opposite of that 
 which it should express, that we have ceased to 
 recognize any necessity of having the one corre- 
 lated to the other. Is there any other race among 
 whom an ideal hero is a man like Eochester in 
 " Jane Eyre," Bertie in " The Henrietta," or the 
 " Disagreeable Man " in " Ships that Pass in the 
 Night " — a man whose exterior exactly misrepre- 
 sents his interior? Is it a wonder, either, that this 
 non-conformity of the ideal to the real in actual life 
 should influence conceptions of art? An Italian or 
 a Frenchman with a voice naturally melodious, a 
 frame naturally graceful, and both naturally flex- 
 ible, seems to believe instinctively that the form 
 of expression should be, and can be, conformed to 
 that which is behind it ; and he seldom thinks of ap- 
 pearing in public until he has studied sufficiently 
 to secure this result. But an Englishman or an 
 American who, as a rule, has by nature either an 
 inarticulate drawl or a nasal twang, and an awk- 
 wardness not only unthinking but unthinkable, he, 
 forsooth, must hold a theory that any study of elo- 
 cutionary technic is unnecessary! 
 The truth is that art-theories, like religious 
 
170 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 creeds, are framed not so much for the purpose of 
 adjusting conditions to the demands of truth, as 
 of advocating the conditions, whether of truth or 
 of falsehood, which the framers recognize to be 
 their own. The majority of us, tho usually un- 
 conscious of the fact, would rather keep all the 
 world below us than, by pointing to a level higher 
 than our own, risk having someone discovered 
 there who, instead of ourselves, has attained it. 
 Accordingly, it is common with the English to 
 fancy that if one have only something to express, 
 he need not trouble himself about the form of 
 expression. So, when they wish to express hearti- 
 ness of welcome, they imitate the action of men 
 shaking hands with ladies holding up heavy trains 
 on their arms, — actions necessarily suggestive of a 
 pretence of having artificial habits acquired at 
 court, and, by consequence, just as necessarily in- 
 capable, in the remotest degree, of suggesting any- 
 thing even of the nature of heartiness. They, too, 
 and their followers in our country are the only 
 people who have ever seriously assigned high rank 
 to men like Blake, Beardsley, or Whitman; and 
 even when, according to the analogy of the law 
 bringing day after night, they wake up to the fact 
 that the technical aspects of form are worthy of at- 
 tention, they also acknowledge this in an equally 
 one-sided way, on the same principle apparently, 
 that a boat when nearest capsizing in one direction 
 is always thrown, when there comes a turn of the 
 wave, where it is nearest capsizing in the opposite 
 direction. Swinburne and Oscar Wilde have cer- 
 tainly not neglected the requirements of technic as 
 applied to form. But, therefore, argue the Eng- 
 
TEGHNIC IN EXPRESSION 171 
 
 lish, with, just as much logic as they apply to sig- 
 nificance irrespective of technic, these poets are to 
 be judged by their technic irrespective of signifi- 
 cance. 
 
 Similar conditions have characterized the thought 
 of our own country. Our great transcendentalist, 
 Ealph Waldo Emerson, seldom makes an allusion 
 to art, or an attempt to practise it, without going 
 astray with reference to this matter of technic : and 
 probably not one New England clergyman in a 
 hundred has, even to-day, a sufficient comprehen- 
 sion of the fact that by truth is meant an exact ad- 
 justment of form to spirit not to use the text ' ' God 
 is a spirit and they that worship Him must wor- 
 ship Him in spirit and in truth " as an argument 
 against ritualism, — which it may be but is not neces- 
 sarily. How very slightly, too, anything like cor- 
 rect form is supposed, in our country, to be a neces- 
 sary feature of pictorial art, may be accurately 
 estimated by looking at the covers and posters of 
 what are, undoubtedly the best representatives of 
 our artistic conceptions,— our popular illustrated 
 magazines.* 
 
 But with us, too, there is abundant evidence of 
 the inevitable danger of capsizing in the other 
 direction, — of paying so much attention to technic 
 that significance will be ignored altogether. Poetic 
 form, for instance, as used by Shakespeare, Cole- 
 ridge, Scott and Burns, was characterized by ap- 
 parent ease and facility. Whatever art there was 
 in it, if not wholly concealed, at least called atten- 
 tion, not to itself but to the thought and feeling for 
 
 * The "fad" thus criticized in 1895, has now, in 1910, ceased to 
 be the fashion. 
 
172 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 the expression of wliicli alone it is of any use. It 
 is true that, in the times of Queen Anne, form like 
 this was considered insufl&cient for the purpose. It 
 is also true, tho the fact is not often acknowledged, 
 that in our own times there is a similar opinion. 
 But we have learned that the styles of Pope and 
 Dryden were artificial. What will our successors 
 learn about our styles? Certainly, if those older 
 poets cultivated an unnatural rhythmic swing, ours 
 are cultivating an equally unnatural melodic swag, 
 the straightforward movement, which alone is logic- 
 ally appropriate in an art, the medium of which is a 
 series of effects in time, having given place to a suc- 
 cession of side-heaves, occasioned by endeavors to 
 lug along heavy epithets. In the overloaded form, 
 there is scarcely more drift, which used to be con- 
 sidered essential in poetry, than in a fishing-smack 
 with every line on board trailing in the water, and 
 every hook at the end of it stuck fast in seaweed. 
 From the levy made upon every possibility of or- 
 namentation within reach, one would suppose that 
 the contemporary muse were the mistress of a 
 South Sea Islander, who never sees beauty where 
 there is no paint. Or, to turn to an art in which 
 paint is more legitimate, — to pictures. We all rec- 
 ognize that here, too, the form may be unduly em- 
 phasized. When one enters a gallery, the work of 
 the great master is most likely to be that which, at 
 first glance, might be mistaken for a mirror re- 
 flecting nature outside the window; in other words, 
 a work, in which technic, however perfect in itself, 
 has been carefully subordinated to the require- 
 ments of representation. Whatever masterpiece 
 one considers he should never wholly ignore the 
 
TECHNIC IN EXPRESSION 173 
 
 question, What does it mean? And if the answer 
 be " Nothing," the condition is unfortunate. Any- 
 thing made to represent nothing cannot be a suc- 
 cessful product of representative art. 
 
 Appreciating the full force of this conclusion, and 
 the absolute necessity of having the form, as de- 
 veloped by technic, exactly conformed, in every 
 case, to the requirements of significance, the repe- 
 titious practise of pauses, inflections and gestures, 
 the consideration of which led to this digression, 
 was also accompanied, in my own teaching, by a 
 careful explanation of the exact phase of thought 
 or feeling represented by each different method of 
 using them. Before the close of the term, also, 
 three or four separate exercises were devoted to 
 reading. In these the students were expected to 
 apply, mentally, the methods of delivery which 
 their imitative practise had enabled them to pro- 
 duce physically. One of my ways of causing them 
 to emphasize the right words in the right manner 
 was to keep interrupting them with questions. My 
 reason for this, as I explained to them, was that an 
 interested audience is always mentally asking ques- 
 tions; and the moment that a speaker's tones cease 
 to be those natural to the answering of questions, 
 his audience, so far as tones have any influence, 
 will cease to listen to him. Practically, too, I never 
 found one downward inflection, which could not be 
 brought to exactly the right pitch, in response to 
 questions thus put. They produce the same result 
 as was indicated as desirable by the late Dr. Tyng, 
 formerly rector of St. George's Church, New York. 
 He said that the secret of his success as a public 
 speaker was his imagining everyone before him to 
 
174 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 be a numskull to whom every little statement must 
 be explained. 
 
 A student of mine would begin, " Why put off 
 longer the declaration of independence? " 
 
 " Put off how? " I would ask. 
 
 " Longer," he would answer. 
 
 " Say so, then," I would reply, and he would 
 go on: 
 
 " Why put off longer the declaration of inde- 
 pendence," dropping his voice on the last word. 
 
 " Declaration of what? " I would ask. 
 
 " Independence," he would answer in a tone 
 slightly higher. 
 
 " Of what? " I would ask again. 
 
 " Independence," he would say, this time con- 
 siderably higher. 
 
 "Of WHAT?" I would shout; "I'm deaf. I 
 can't hear you." 
 
 " Independence," he would cry. 
 
 " Well, say so, then," I would tell him again. 
 " You're not lulling babes to sleep. You're try- 
 ing to rouse men to action." 
 
 And so, finally, the voice would rise to the proper 
 pitch; at first, of course, with too much force, but 
 it is easy enough to regulate force after a pupil has 
 learned to use pitch. 
 
 Following the class exercises that have been de- 
 scribed, there were courses in vocal culture, and at 
 sometime before graduating, every student was re- 
 quired to appear for at least six private rehearsals. 
 To these, he always brought his speech copied on 
 alternate lines of the paper used, between which, 
 as he spoke, the instructor would mark with col- 
 ored pencils every inflection or gesture which, as 
 
TECHNIG IN EXPRESSION 175 
 
 judged by the requirements of significance, was 
 wrong, or was omitted where its use would be an 
 improvement. 
 
 Even after I had three assistants in my depart- 
 ment, I myself did not entirely drop, as most pro- 
 fessors would have done, its elementary work. I 
 considered it more important, as well as more dif- 
 ficult, to drill an unappreciative Freshman at the 
 beginning of his course than to lecture to a possibly 
 appreciative Senior near the end of it. In the kind 
 of drill that was given, and has been described, my 
 experience taught me to believe implicitly. At its 
 conclusion, at the end of a single short term, out of 
 a class of over a hundred, I have frequently found 
 no more than two or three physically unable to 
 make right inflections; and every flexible man — 
 certainly three-quarters of the class — could make 
 satisfactory gestures. The rest knew, at least, how 
 to practise in order to learn to do so; and, if in- 
 terested in the subject, always finally accomplished 
 the desired result. 
 
 A few words more I feel impelled to add with 
 reference to the general effect of requiring all the 
 students of a college to take, at least, some such 
 preliminary instruction in the technic of elocution. 
 As a means of turning attention to professions 
 necessitating public address, especially to the min- 
 istry and the law, there is no doubt of its utility. 
 Certainly, a quarter and possibly a third of those 
 entering such professions from institutions where 
 this study is required, do so as a result of its re- 
 vealing to them oratorical aptitudes of which, but 
 for it, they never would have imagined themselves 
 possest. 
 
176 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 Nor must one forget the close connection between 
 elocution and literature. The man who has learned 
 how to arrange tones and pauses in reading is the 
 man who can best arrange what can be easily read by 
 others. Where elocution is properly taught, not 
 once in a score of times, will you find a prize writer 
 in an upper class who has not started by being a 
 prize speaker in a lower class. When Wendell 
 Phillips made a special study of elocution at Har- 
 vard, by his side studied Motley, the historian. 
 But, beyond its influence upon literary excellence, 
 the kind of practise necessitated in elocution, and 
 its very apparent effects, are a revelation to large 
 numbers of students of the true method through 
 which thought and feeling can make subservient to 
 themselves the agencies of expression in any de- 
 partment whatever that necessitates the acquire- 
 ment of skill; indeed, a revelation of how, if at all, 
 the mind can master the whole body or any of its 
 bodily surroundings. 
 
 Notice, too, that the comprehension of facts like 
 these is essential also to character, wherever fully 
 developed. Therefore, there is good reason why 
 the majority of the great teachers, whose names 
 have come down to us from antiquity, like Aris- 
 totle, Gamaliel, Quintilian, were teachers of expres- 
 sion, some of them, like the last-named, distinct- 
 ively teachers of elocution. There is good reason 
 to hope, too, that the time may come when, in our 
 own country, the instructors in this department 
 will not march on commencement day, as so many 
 of them are now obliged to do, with the tutors and 
 assistants at the end of the procession. Unless 
 possession be more important than expression, un- 
 
TECH NIG IN EXPRESSION 177 
 
 less the mind be a well and not a spring, unless it 
 be more essential to "weigb down the memory than 
 to wing the imagination, unless the term " Insti- 
 tution of Liberal Arts " be a misnomer, this is not 
 the place where they should march. 
 
 At the opening of this paper, attention was called 
 to the fact that elocution is an art, subject, there- 
 fore, to the principles controlling all the arts. 
 Notice, now, that it is not only an art, but also, 
 in an important sense, the art of arts, the center 
 and fountain of the whole esthetic system. When 
 the fountain plays, there is melody and rhythm in 
 the rush of its spray and the ripple of its over- 
 flow ; there is color and line in the sunlit bow crown- 
 ing its brow and in the ghost-like shadow shrink- 
 ing from the touch of moonlight or the frost. But 
 there would be nothing to hear or to see, except for 
 the fountain itself. Nor would there be anything 
 of the whole art-system except for elocution. Make 
 that which can echo a man's intonations, symbolize 
 his articulations, imitate his postures and the hues 
 and outlines that surround him, and you have the 
 possibilities of music, poetry, painting, sculpture 
 and architecture. Whatever more these latter arts 
 include, they gain all their uses and meanings from 
 the previous use which an immaterial soul has 
 made of its material body. Art is human senti- 
 ment made incarnate in the forms of nature; and 
 it first touches nature in the human form, as in elo- 
 cution. 
 
 Now, observe one result of this. All the other 
 arts necessitate an external product; and the diffi- 
 culties connected with inventing and arranging 
 this, call attention to form in a way that elocution 
 
178 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 need not. The musician may forget about signifi- 
 cance in thinking of melody and harmony, the poet 
 in thinking of meter and rhyme, the painter, sculp- 
 tor, architect, in thinking of color and outline. But 
 the form to which the elocutionist must apply the 
 results of technic is a part of himself. Therefore, 
 he, of all artists, is least liable, in his own concep- 
 tions, to divorce the form of expression from the 
 significance of expression. Take any elocutionary 
 system and you will see the truth of this, — that of 
 Delsarte, for instance. What does it suggest? To 
 half of us the importance and possibility of accu- 
 rately representing significance in the form. But 
 to the other half, it suggests gymnastic technic — 
 the importance and possibility of adapting the 
 form to every possible requirement of grace. At 
 the same time, to all of us it suggests something 
 of both conceptions. Such a result is not so inevit- 
 able in any other art. Nor is it an unimportant 
 mission of elocution, as I conceive, to make it in- 
 evitable in all the arts. But, while doing this, and 
 because doing it, our branch of instruction has a 
 broader mission still. What, as well as it, can en- 
 able a man to realize that he has a soul of which 
 his body is merely an instrument, an instrument 
 that can be made to signal any purpose, or to 
 trumpet any call? And the man who recognizes 
 that the human form can be transfigured by the in- 
 fluence of soul, — is not he the one most likely to 
 recognize that, by way of association or suggestion, 
 all forms can be thus transfigured? 
 
 The peculiar forms of technic with which we have 
 to do, may, sometimes, as said at the opening of 
 this paper, necessitate our dealing with very small 
 
TECHNIC IN EXPRESSION 179 
 
 tilings; but they are like the small stones which, 
 when put together, frame the grandest edifice. For 
 the principles of expression which we teach, — what 
 are they but those which best interpret that which 
 is most important in humanity, and not in it alone, 
 but in all the audible and visible forms of the uni- 
 verse, from which it is possible for humanity to 
 derive wisdom and guidance? 
 
THE PRINCIPLES OF SUCCESSFUL WRIT- 
 ING AND SPEAKING FUNDAMENT- 
 ALLY THE SAME* 
 
 " No general theory of expression," says Her- 
 bert Spencer, when writing upon style, " seems yet 
 to have been eniinciated. The maxims contained 
 in works on composition and rhetoric are presented 
 in an unorganized form. Standing as isolated dog- 
 mas, as empirical generalizations, they are neither 
 so clearly apprehended, nor so much respected, as 
 they would be, were they deduced from some simple 
 first principle. We are told that ' brevity is the 
 soul of wit. ' We hear styles condemned as ' ver- 
 bose or involved.' But however influential the 
 truths thus dogmatically embodied, they would be 
 much more influential if reduced to something like 
 scientific coordination. In this, as in other cases, 
 conviction will be greatly strengthened when we 
 imderstand the why. And we may be sure that a 
 comprehension of the general principles from which 
 the rules of composition result, will not only bring 
 them home to us with greater force, but will dis- 
 cover to us other rules of like origin." In connec- 
 tion with this general comment, but especially with 
 its latter clause, it is of interest to recall a declara- 
 tion made more than eighteen hundred years ago 
 by the great Roman rhetorician, Quintilian. " For 
 
 * Eevise of the Preface and Introduction of a text-book termed 
 "The Writer." 
 
WRITING AND SPEAKING ANALOGOUS 181 
 
 my own part," lie said, " I think that we ought to 
 write and to speak on the same principles and by 
 the same laws. ' ' 
 
 It is strange that the centuries that have elapsed 
 since the time of Quintilian have witnessed, so far 
 as history now records, no attempt to make a prac- 
 tical application of his suggestion. Yet, probably, 
 in all these centuries, rhetoric and elocution have 
 been taught as merely different branches of the 
 same subject. They have been taught thus, not 
 solely as a matter of convenience, — because of a lack 
 of means with which to pay for separate instruct- 
 ors; but because it has been felt that the two de- 
 partments are so nearly allied that they ought, in 
 some way, to be made to go together. Both have to 
 do with language. No one is fully prepared to be 
 a teacher in the one who is not prepared to be a 
 teacher in the other ; nor does any pupil, as a rule, 
 show aptitude for success in either who does not 
 show almost equal aptitude for success in both. 
 Effective rhetoricians usually furnish the best can- 
 didates for effective public speakers ; and the latter 
 are those whose methods of writing best accommo- 
 date themselves to the requirements of reading. 
 Most of us know that a good literary style is cul- 
 tivated by acquaintance with good literature even 
 more than by studying rhetoric, in however excel- 
 lent a manual; and we know, too, that no small 
 part of the beneficial influence of this literature, 
 whether oratory or poetry, is derived from testing 
 how it sounds, which involves getting the benefit 
 of its distinctively elocutionary effects. 
 
 Now might not systems of rhetoric, more largely 
 than at present, avail themselves of inferences that 
 
182 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 may be legitimately drawn from facts like these? 
 Might not these elocutionary effects of composition, 
 and the methods of producing them, be taught? 
 Why should not text-books begin to cultivate good 
 style in a manner analogous to that in which it is 
 now so often cultivated by reading? The moment 
 that these questions are asked, they suggest some 
 others. Does not all that has been said thus far, in- 
 dicate that there is some connection between elocu- 
 tion and rhetoric more deeply grounded than any 
 that is usually supposed? Is there any such radi- 
 cal difference between the two as to justify the 
 radically different methods in accordance with 
 which they have hitherto been taught? May they 
 not, in fact, be radically alike? Let us consider 
 this question for a moment. Elocution and rhet- 
 oric both give expression to thought, and, often, as 
 in oratory, to the same thought. If this be so, the 
 the only difference between them must lie in the 
 method of emphasizing the thought which each ex- 
 presses. What is this difference? Both use words; 
 and words are sounds, each of which has a conven- 
 tional meaning ; but the emphasis is put in elocution 
 upon the sounds, and in rhetoric upon the meanings. 
 This is the only invariable distinction between the 
 two. At first, possibly, some may be inclined to 
 doubt the accuracy of this statement. It may seem 
 to them that elocution differs from rhetoric in being 
 spoken, and also in being accompanied by forms ap- 
 pealing to the eye, as in postures and gestures. But 
 a moment's thought will recall the fact that rhetoric 
 also is often spoken, and read aloud, and, even 
 when read with no audible sounds, seems to force 
 the imagination to hear these; and that it also is 
 
WRITING AND SPEAKING ANALOGOUS 183 
 
 accompanied by forms appealing to the eye, as in 
 the printed text. Precisely, too, as in connection 
 with gestures, we recall the general postures of the 
 body, the special conformations of the hands, in 
 their palms, fingers and fists, and the movements of 
 the arms, straight, circular, angular, upward, down- 
 ward, or on a level, with more or less degrees of 
 emphasis; so, in connection with the printed text, 
 we recall the general look of the page, the special 
 arrangements of sentences, lines and stanzas, and 
 of commas, colons, periods, interrogation-points, ex- 
 clamation-points and dashes, with a more or less 
 emphatic use of italics, caps and small caps. But 
 gesture and typography, analogous in their nature, 
 and both helps well-nigh essential, the one to elocu- 
 tion and the other to rhetoric, are, neither of them, 
 absolutely essential. It would be possible to hear 
 elocution without seeing gestures, and rhetoric with- 
 out seeing a printed text. What is essential is the 
 representation of thought through the use of words, 
 the sounds of which are emphasized in the one 
 case, and the meanings in the other ; tho, in neither 
 case, is sound or meaning left wholly out of con- 
 sideration. 
 
 This being so, it certainly does not seem that 
 there should be any great difference in principle 
 between the appropriate use of words in an art 
 that emphasizes one feature in them and in an art 
 that emphasizes another feature. "Why should not 
 sounds when we are emphasizing the meanings that 
 they express be related to one another in ways 
 analogous to those in which meanings are related 
 when we are emphasizing the sounds that express 
 them? If we admit that this must be the case, an- 
 
184 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 other thought suggests itself. Inasmuch as elocu- 
 tion is the simpler art, and therefore the more easy 
 to understand, might it not be wise to avail our- 
 selves of our understanding of this, and apply it 
 to the solution of the more intricate problems of 
 rhetoric? Might it not be especially wise to do so 
 at the present time, in view of the very great prog- 
 ress, not paralleled in the case of rhetoric, that has 
 been made of late in our understanding of the laws 
 of elocution? Within thirty years, the methods un- 
 derlying the effects of this latter art, have been so 
 satisfactorily studied that their essentials are now 
 practically beyond dispute. Moreover, they have 
 been so analyzed to their elements, so grounded 
 upon first principles, and so comprehensively yet 
 succinctly stated, that they are few in number, 
 readily remembered, and easy to apply. For in- 
 stance, the sixteen rules for the use of the upward 
 and downward inflections, not all of them together 
 beginning to cover all possible exceptions, which 
 were given in the latest and best book upon elocu- 
 tion published in England in 1876 are all contained 
 in " The Orator's Manual," published in 1879 in a 
 single fundamental principle and its converse, and 
 to this principle there can be no exception. These 
 principles of elocution, moreover, because of the 
 thoroughness and comprehensiveness of the analy- 
 sis and generalization to which they have been 
 subjected have all been put into positive form. None 
 of these facts are true of rhetoric. Its rules are 
 numerous, difficult to remember, hard to apply, and 
 many of the more important of them are put into 
 merely negative form. They tell the student, for 
 instance, that he must refrain from certain faults, 
 
WRITING AND SPEAKING ANALOGOUS 185 
 
 or his style will be neither forcible nor eleganL; yet, 
 as everybody recognizes, he could refrain from 
 every one of the faults mentioned, and still con- 
 tinue to have a style lacking either characteristic. 
 
 Enough has been said, however, to indicate the 
 general line of thought that has suggested this idea 
 of applying to rhetoric the methods of elocution. A 
 few words more will render clear the feasibility of 
 doing this. By elocutionary methods are meant 
 certain ways of indicating the sense by using tones 
 as they are presented in one of the four elements of 
 time, force, quality or pitch. As presented in time, 
 tones are made to have rhythm. But there is no 
 essential difference between the rhythm of elocu- 
 tion and of rhetoric. In elocution, again, slow time 
 indicates things that move slowly, or thoughts that 
 are important, and vice versa. Precisely the same 
 principles apply in rhetoric to orthography causing 
 long or short articulation. Once more, by means of 
 elocutionary pauses in time, words and series of 
 words are separated from others and grouped to- 
 gether; and so, too, in rhetoric nothing is more es- 
 sential to clearness of expression than the time at 
 which qualifying terms or phrases, like the word 
 only or the clause as it were, are introduced into 
 sentences, including the means by which articles, 
 nouns, adjectives, pronouns, verbs, auxiliaries, ad- 
 verbs, and prepositions or clauses connected with 
 them, are separated from others which they do not 
 qualify, and are grouped with those which they do 
 qualify. What may be termed force in both elocu- 
 tion and rhetoric is indicative of energy. This is 
 manifested, in the former art, by some unusual 
 emphasis or arrangement of tones, and, in the latter 
 
186 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 art, in strict accordance with this analogy, by a 
 selection of short, sharply defined, ponderous, or, 
 in some way suggestive words or phrases, and by 
 the arrangements of these at the beginnings or end- 
 ings of clauses or sentences, as in periodic or cli- 
 macteric order. Quality in elocution is indicative 
 of feeling, the pure tone manifesting unimpas- 
 sioned utterance; the orotund, animated or elated 
 utterance; the aspirate, secretive or apprehensive 
 utterance; the guttural, hostile utterance; and the 
 pectoral, awed or affrighted utterance. Corre- 
 sponding to these in rhetoric, we have various com- 
 binations of vowels and consonants, producing imi- 
 tative or onomatopoetic sounds, or euphonious or 
 harmonious sounds, as in alliteration, assonance 
 and rhyme. Finally, in elocution a downward pitch 
 of the voice points to an emphasized word or clause, 
 in order to show its particular relevancy to the sub- 
 ject ; an upward pitch points away from a word or 
 clause to show its reference to some other one ; and 
 a circumflex inflection, using a pitch in both direc- 
 tions, points hoth to a word or clause and also away 
 from it, to show both or either relationship. This 
 involves its equivocacy. These three terms and the 
 distinctions indicated by them are applicable to 
 rhetoric. In this art, relevancy of form to form 
 causes purity of style; of form to thought, preci- 
 sion; of thought to thought, propriety. Reference 
 of form to form in rhetoric involves the avoidance 
 of ambiguity through the use of exactly the same 
 persons, genders, or numbers in certain words, thus 
 rendering the relationships between adjacent pro- 
 nouns, verbs, or other parts of speech, immedi- 
 ately distinguishable. Reference of form to thought 
 
WRITING AND SPEAKING ANALOGOUS 187 
 
 involves a repetitious use, for the designation of 
 the same object of thought, of the same or exactly 
 synonymous nouns, relatives, verbs, auxiliaries, 
 prepositions, adverbs, and clauses connected with 
 them. Reference of thought to thought involves an 
 appropriate use of figures of speech either direct 
 or indirect as in metaphor, simile, allegory, personi- 
 fication, etc. Ehetorical equivocacy involves a use 
 of such forms of expression as we have in the epi- 
 gram, paradox, innuendo, and the various phases of 
 sarcasm and irony. 
 
 One acquainted with the subject need not be told 
 now that under some one of the above heads can 
 be included every element of rhetorical style. But 
 the completeness of the system, while essential, is 
 not the excuse for its existence; nor its most com- 
 mendable characteristic. More important than 
 either is the fact that it is based upon a few gen- 
 eral propositions, the reasons for which can be so 
 readily recognized, and the applications of which 
 are so logically necessitated, that there are good 
 grounds for believing that they can produce upon 
 the pupil the impression that, in his rhetorical 
 studies, he is dealing not with the names of things, 
 but with the things themselves; and not with the 
 methods of avoiding, in a negative way, grammatical 
 defects, but of introducing, in a positive way, ar- 
 tistic excellences. Thus, possibly, there may be 
 developed in him that interest and prompting to in- 
 itiative to which there is always some tendency 
 wherever, for laws that may merely repress, there 
 are substituted principles not expected to fulfil their 
 mission except in the degree in which they have been 
 applied in practise. 
 
THE LITERAEY ARTIST AS DEVELOPED 
 BY THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION* 
 
 The history of literature is the history of the 
 evolution of written discourse from oral discourse. 
 In the early ages, the styles of both orators and 
 story-tellers grew out of the methods of speech. 
 "When the story-tellers became artists, they turned 
 the requirements of accent and inhalation into 
 measure and line, and thus developed verse. All 
 verse, even of an epic, died with its composer, un- 
 less its peculiar fitness for recitation caused suc- 
 ceeding minstrels to echo it down the ages; and 
 even a lyric died unless its lines, when they were 
 read, could sing themselves into a song so full of 
 sweetness that the world could not forget it. After 
 men began to record their thoughts in manuscript, 
 the ideal of style still continued to be framed upon 
 that of speech. Philosophical disquisitions, like 
 those of Plato, were presented in the form of dia- 
 log; and when epics and lyrics ceased to be merely 
 recited, the poets substituted dramas which, for 
 full effect, compelled recitation. To-day, oral re- 
 quirements continue to determine style in our writ- 
 ten orations, our dramas, and the most artistic 
 parts — the conversations — of our novels. Of other 
 forms of composition, the same is true, tho not to 
 the same extent. 
 
 * Delivered before the National Association of Eloeutionista, 
 New York City, June 28 — July 2, 1897, and reprinted in its records. 
 
THE LITEBABY ABTIST 189 
 
 Sucli being the genesis of literature, wliat lessons 
 can we draw from it? Most thinkers admit that no 
 method of development manifested in the history 
 of the race is out of analogy with that which is 
 manifested in the history of the individual. If this 
 opinion be justified, we have a right to infer that 
 proficiency in oral discourse on the part of the 
 young is desirable, if not essential, as a prepara- 
 tion for proficiency in written discourse. Do facts, 
 however, warrant this inference! Why do they 
 not? Almost anyone who has had experience in 
 colleges in which elocution is faithfully taught will 
 find it quite difficult to recall any names of any stu- 
 dents ranking high in rhetoric, when in upper 
 classes, who have not shown interest and aptitude 
 in elocution, when in lower classes. He can point 
 to scores of graduates, also, of high professional 
 and literary rank, who, throughout their college 
 courses, manifested no ability whatever, except in 
 elocution. This is a fact more important than 
 many suppose. Three men of whom this is true are 
 suggested to me, as I now write. All are living in 
 the largest city of our country, and are well known 
 by reputation. The one, too, occupying the most 
 exacting literary position, where his work is con- 
 stantly submitted to most critical tests, seemed, in 
 college, utterly devoid of the slightest germ capable 
 of literary development. But he was a hard 
 worker. In elocution he succeeded; and the temple 
 of culture is entered by many doors. The in- 
 structor who induces a young man to push open one 
 of them will force him to a glimpse that will lure 
 him further. To apply this to our present subject, 
 the door of literary art stands close beside that of 
 
190 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 elocution. How was it with Henry Ward Beecher? 
 He tells us, in his " Yale Lectures," that " it was " 
 his ' ' good fortune in early academic life to fall into 
 the hands of Prof. Lovell, and for a period of three 
 years," he " was drilled incessantly, in posturing, 
 gesture, and voice-cidture." Has anyone ever been 
 heard to say that, when in college, Mr. Beecher 
 studied any other subject incessantly? Mr. Motley, 
 the historian, when in Harvard, was probably a stu- 
 dent in all departments. But to one study, he and 
 Wendell Phillips together devoted themselves with 
 special assiduity. This was elocution. 
 
 All facts, even when only approximately imiver- 
 sal, illustrate principles behind them. It is easy 
 enough to perceive a general reason for a connec- 
 tion between a knowledge of elocution and of liter- 
 ary art. The latter is printed to be read; and 
 words, to be read easily, must be selected and ar- 
 ranged for that purpose. This is true, even when 
 they are not to be vocalized. " In reading without 
 utterance aloud," says Alexander Bain, ia his 
 Ehetorie, " we have a sense of the articulate flow 
 of the voice as it appeals to the ear." If this be 
 so, the deduction is unavoidable that the man who, 
 himself, knows how to read with ease will be the 
 most likely to know how to select and to arrange 
 words so that they can be read with ease by others. 
 He will be the most likely to know just where to in- 
 troduce the accents causing natural rhythm, the 
 pauses enabling one to breathe without effort, and 
 the important words emphasizing the sense; to 
 know where to hasten the movement by short sen- 
 tences and syllables that one can pronounce quickly, 
 and where to retard it by long sentences and syUa- 
 
TEE LITERARY ARTIST 191 
 
 bles that have to be uttered slowly; to know how 
 to balance the sound-effects of epithets and phrases, 
 when ideas are to be contrasted, or to parallel them 
 when they are to be compared; to know how to let 
 the suggestions of proof, if decisive, unwind like a 
 cracking whiplash, at the end of a periodic sen- 
 tence or climax, or, if indecisive, unravel into 
 shreds at the end of a loose sentence or an anti- 
 climax; to know how to charge his batteries of 
 breath with consonants and clauses that hiss, whine, 
 roar, or rattle, and give thought the victory over 
 form, through rhyme that is loaded with reason, 
 and rhythm that repeats the thought-waves pulsing 
 in the brain, or only to waste his energies in cata- 
 loging names for things that never waken realiza- 
 tion of what they cannot picture, that never rouse 
 imagination save as they first lull to dreams, and 
 that never stir one vivid feeling except of gratitude 
 when their dull details are at an end. 
 
 What has been said is true as applied not only to 
 the writer but also to the reader of writing, not only 
 to him whose compositions are to influence others, 
 but also to him who is to be interested in the best 
 that others can produce. How can one be expected 
 to appreciate that which has caused poets like 
 Shakespeare, Milton, or Tennyson to put their 
 thoughts into verse, if his ear have never been 
 made acquainted by nature or by training with the 
 relations and the meanings of sounds? Upon such 
 a man, all the time and the care that these poets 
 have expended in arranging their words in another 
 form than prose have been wasted. As Prof. J. R. 
 Seeley, lecturer upon modern history in Cambridge 
 University, Eng., says, in his essay upon " Eng- 
 
192 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 lish in Schools " : "It is more than a hundred 
 years since Bishop Berkeley propounded the ques- 
 tion whether half the learning and talent of Eng- 
 land was not wholly lost because elocution was not 
 taught in schools and in colleges. The same ques- 
 tion might be repeated now, so slow are we English 
 people in taking a hint. ... I think that by 
 this means, more than by any other, may be evoked 
 in the minds of the young a taste for poetry and 
 eloquence. This taste is very universal. Generally, 
 when it appears wanting, it is only dormant; be- 
 cause no means have been taken to cultivate the 
 sense of rhythm, and to make the delightfulness of 
 speech understood." To the same effect, F. W. 
 Newman says, in his article on " A University Cur- 
 riculum ": "If a systematic reading class of the 
 noblest poetry, under the guidance of a judicious 
 elocution master, be added, no lack of taste for our 
 poetry need be feared." 
 
 There are other reasons, not so commonly ob- 
 served, why a study of elocution is beneficial to the 
 production and the appreciation of literature. They 
 may be considered under two heads: First, those 
 connected with the character of literature as an 
 art : and second, those connected with the necessity, 
 as a prerequisite for proficiency in any art, of ac- 
 quiring skill. 
 
 In the first place, literature belongs to the de- 
 partment of art. This fact necessitates its appeal- 
 ing, not — as science does — to the understanding 
 through direct statements with reference to ideas 
 or emotions, but to the imagination through forms 
 representative of these. In other words, the imagi- 
 nation thinks of that which art presents, by per- 
 
THE LITERARY ARTIST 193 
 
 ceiving images wMch appear in the mind. But in 
 different arts these images are awakened in differ- 
 ent ways. The inarticulated sounds heard in music 
 start within one a general emotive tendency — active 
 or restful, triumphant or desponding, gay or sad, 
 as the case may be — and this tendency influences 
 the general direction of thought; but exactly what 
 the form of the thought — or the image — shall be, 
 the mind is left free to determine for itself. The 
 same composition may make a farmer think of a 
 thunder-shower, a sailor of a tempest, or a soldier 
 of a battle-field. In painting and in sculpture, on 
 the contrary, it is the form or image that is deter- 
 mined by the presentation, and the emotive ten- 
 dency that the miud is left free to develop in con- 
 nection with it. 
 
 Literary art stands halfway between these two 
 extremes. It appeals to the imagination not only 
 as sounds do — which fact is evident to all of us— 
 but also as sights do. Words almost invariably 
 recall things seen, as do the words " horse," 
 " house," " hill," " outlandish," " overlook," 
 ' ' undermine. ' ' The peculiarity of elocution is that 
 it develops, and therefore reveals to men, both 
 these linguistic possibilities. Rhythm, quality, mod- 
 ulation and energy of movement produce effects of 
 sound. The articulation of many of the words, to 
 say nothing of the accompanying gestures, pro- 
 duces effects of sight. If, in elocutionary delivery, 
 a man forget to appeal to imagination according to 
 the methods of sound, he ceases to have that drift 
 which is necessary in order to draw into the chan- 
 nel of his thought, and sweep onward, as music 
 does, the emotions of his audience. If he forget to 
 
194 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 appeal to imagination according to the methods of 
 sight, *. e., to remember to what an extent his words, 
 and each word in its place, must cause his audience 
 to think in pictures, then his motive, being merely 
 musical, begins to have the effect legitimate to mu- 
 sic. It either lulls people to sleep or, if not, at 
 least leaves their minds free to determine for them- 
 selves what shall be the substance of their thought. 
 His delivery fails to hold them to the particular 
 subject that he is presenting. Subtly recognizing 
 this fact, experienced elocutionists always select 
 for recitation a composition that is not only mu- 
 sical but picturesque. They do this not only that 
 their gestures may have something to portray, but 
 that their words may suggest images which their 
 audiences can mentally see. It is true that oratory 
 and certain poems designed primarily for recita- 
 tion are sometimes characterized by a degree of 
 rhetorical repetition, which, if introduced into es- 
 says or into poems of a different character, de- 
 tracts from their excellence. The repetition is neces- 
 sary in order to render fully understood that which 
 is to be heard only once. But m that which is to 
 be read from print, a man may glance back and do 
 his own repeating, and he usually prefers to do 
 it. Poetic or oratorical repetition, however, is not 
 a necessary adjunct of the picturesqueness of style 
 just mentioned. I used to wonder why it was that 
 foreign critics — French and German — almost uni- 
 versally fail to assign very high rank to the poetry 
 of Tennyson, while they do assign it to that of 
 Byron. I am quite sure now that the line of thought 
 just suggested, explains, in part at least, both facts. 
 The depreciation of Tennyson seems to be owing to 
 
TEE LITERARY ARTIST 195 
 
 his overbalancing appeal to the imagination through 
 the methods of sound. Those not familiar with the 
 sounds of English words and the more subtly asso- 
 ciated suggestions of these sounds often fail to rec- 
 ognize his artistic qualities. 
 
 Tennyson, however, was a great poet. His work 
 very frequently appeals to the imagination through 
 the methods of sight. For that which does not do 
 this, or does it but slightly, we must look to his fol- 
 lowers. In the following, for instance, all of us will 
 be conscious of a musical flow of syllables, but most 
 of us will not be conscious of seeing images rise in 
 succession before the imagination; we shall not be 
 lifted into that realm of visual surroundings to 
 which it is the peculiar province of poetry to trans- 
 port one. On thinking it over, too, we shall prob- 
 ably recognize that the same could be said of much 
 of the ordinary — the very ordinary — poetry of the 
 present, tho it, too, is often extremely musical. 
 
 "So much we lend, indeed, 
 
 Perforce, by force of need, 
 So much we must; even these things and no more, 
 The far sea sundering and the sundered shore 
 
 A world apart from ours, 
 
 So much the imperious hours; 
 Exact and spare not; but no more than these 
 All earth and all her seas 
 
 From thought and faith of trust and truth can borrow, 
 Not memory from desire, nor hope from sorrow." 
 
 — Swinburne's A Parting Song. 
 
 This same lack of power to conjure visible forms 
 before the imagination is sometimes manifested 
 even in poetry apparently written for the special 
 purpose of doing this very thing; e. g., 
 
196 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 "Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drown 'd, 
 Let darkness keep her raven gloss; 
 Ah, sweeter to be drunk with loss, 
 To dance with death, to beat the ground." 
 
 — Tennyson's In Memoriam. 
 
 "As fire that kisses, killing with a kiss. 
 
 He saw the light of death, riotous and red, 
 Flame round the bent brows of Semiramis 
 
 Ee-risen and mightier, from the Assyrian dead. 
 Kindling, as dawn a frost-bound precipice. 
 The steely snows of Eussia, for the tread 
 Of feet that felt before them crawl and hiss 
 The snaky lines of blood violently shed 
 Like living creeping things 
 That writhe but have no stings 
 To scare adulterers from the imperial bed 
 Bowed with its load of lust, 
 Or chill the ravenous gust 
 That made her body a fire from heel to head; 
 Or change her high bright spirit and clear. 
 For aU its mortal stains, from taint of fraud or fear. ' ' 
 
 — Swinburne's Walter Savage Landor. 
 
 With this compare poetry that is visually repre- 
 sentative. First, a few quotations from Shake- 
 peare : 
 
 "A substitute shines brightly aa a king, 
 Until a king be by; and then his state 
 Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
 Into the main of waters." 
 
 — Merchant of Venice, Act V., Scene 1. 
 
 "Tour enemies, wi' th' nodding of their plumes, 
 Fan you into despair!" 
 
 — CorManus, Act III., Scene 3. 
 
 ' ' Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face. 
 That we, like savages, may worship it." 
 
 — Love's Labor's Lost, Act V., Scene 2. 
 
 Also these from Byron: 
 
 "That morning he had freed the soil-bound slaves. 
 Who dig no land for tyrants but their graves ! ' ' 
 
 — Lara. 
 
THE LITEBABY ABT18T 197 
 
 " 'Tis midnight. On the mountains brown 
 The cold round moon shines deeply down; 
 Blue roll the waters, blue the sky 
 Spreads like an ocean hung on high, 
 Bespangled with those isles of light, 
 So wildly, spiritually bright; 
 Who ever gazed upon them shining, 
 And turn 'd to earth without repining ? ' ' 
 
 — The Siege of Corinth. 
 
 And these from Longfellow : 
 
 "The day is done, and slowly from the scene 
 The stooping sun upgathers his pent shafts. 
 And puts them back into his golden quiver." 
 
 — The Golden Legend. 
 
 "Take them, O great Eternity! 
 Our little life is but a gust 
 That bends the branches of thy tree, 
 And trails its blossoms in the dust." 
 
 — Suspiria. 
 
 The difference in the effect upon imagination of 
 this latter poetry and of that which is written by 
 one who neglects the requirements of visual repre- 
 sentation, because carried away from them by an 
 overweening interest in musical effects, will be at 
 once recognized. It will be recognized, too, that it 
 is a difference which, in any period of literature, 
 cannot be widely disregarded without greatly de- 
 teriorating the quality of the poetry produced. Nor 
 will it fail to be evident, after what has just been 
 said, that it is a difference which one familiar with 
 the requirements of elocution will be the least likely 
 of all men to disregard. 
 
 Let us pass on now to notice the bearings which 
 an acquaintance with the methods of elocution has 
 upon an understanding of the necessity, as a pre- 
 requisite for proficiency in all art, of acquiring skill. 
 An understanding, or at least a realization, of this 
 
198 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 necessity is not common. Yet not to realize it ren- 
 ders literary production or appreciation, not to 
 speak of other forms of culture, well-nigh, impos- 
 sible. What does skill involve? Let us try to de- 
 termine this by an illustration. 
 
 When Mozart was three years old, he was giving 
 concerts attended by the first musicians. When he 
 was eight, he had composed a symphony contain- 
 ing parts for a complete orchestra. We ascribe 
 such precocious results to genius. But suppose 
 that, at these ages, he had manifested no musical 
 proficiency; yet that, after practising five or six 
 hours a day for ten or fifteen years, he had pro- 
 duced the same, or approximately the same, quality 
 of music. In this case, we should have said that his 
 genius had been rendered able to express itself as 
 a result of his having acquired skill, or — ^what is the 
 same — as a result of his having studied art. But 
 what should we have thought that this study had 
 done for him? First of all, that it had enabled him 
 to understand the reasons and the methods of print- 
 ing music, of fingering them upon an instrument, 
 and of arranging tones, one after another, in mel- 
 ody and in harmony; besides this, that the practise 
 involved in musical study had enabled his mind and 
 body to put into execution that which he had 
 learned, — to comprehend in a single glance large 
 groups of notes on a printed staff, and, no matter 
 how numerous and complex, to send his knowledge 
 of them through the brain and nerves, and transfer 
 them to sound with precision and the rapidity of 
 lightning. We should recognize, too, that he never 
 could have become able to do this, unless that which 
 he had studied and practised had, after a time, 
 
TEE LITEBABY ABTI8T 199 
 
 passed from a region — so to speak — ^in which it 
 needed to be consciously overlooked, to a region 
 where it could be overlooked unconsciously. No 
 man ever acquired the skill of an artist until he 
 could — automatically, as it were — read printed 
 notes, finger them, and harmonize them, reserving 
 all his conscious energies for the expression of 
 the general thought and emotion. Notice, how- 
 ever, that when this stage had been reached, the 
 ordinary musician would be just where Mozart was 
 when he started, or, if one wish for a more striking 
 example, where Blind Tom — an uninstructed negro, 
 yet an expert piano-player — was during all his life. 
 The perfect work of the conscious practise neces- 
 sary in order to acquire facility in art is to cause 
 those parts of either the body or the mind engaged 
 in the task to act unconsciously. Now, when they 
 act thus, what is it that controls their action? It is 
 merely to use a corollary to say that it is those 
 parts or powers of the mind of which we are un- 
 conscious. How do we know that these parts or 
 powers exist? From results which their existence 
 alone can explain. What results? Often abnormal 
 results — things that occur not only in manifesta- 
 tions of artistic skill, but also in fright, fever, hyp- 
 notism — all of which involve physical methods of 
 benumbing those parts of the body and the mind of 
 which we are conscious, in such ways as to allow 
 the parts of which we are not conscious — those that 
 are subconscious — to take charge of the methods of 
 expression, and thus reveal themselves, — sometimes 
 to the agent of the action, sometimes to others. 
 The man in danger of drowning or of burning tells 
 of having revealed to him in a few moments mil- 
 
200 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 lions of the miniitest experiences of his life, which 
 he was sure that he had forgotten. The lips of 
 the man in fever repeat the most technical details 
 of unstudied sciences and languages, — terms and 
 phrases heard but once and to none of which he 
 had listened attentively. The hypnotized patient 
 has a personage, a theory, suggested to him, and at 
 once he repeats and develops concerning it, with 
 absolutely perfect manifestations, it is claimed, of 
 recollection, imitation, illustration, and logic, any- 
 thing in the way of characterization or statement 
 that he has ever heard, seen or imagined. Now this 
 seems exactly what Mozart and Blind Tom could 
 do; and exactly what lightning calculators can do; 
 like Zerah Colburn, for example, who, before the 
 figures could be written down, had answered the 
 question, " What is the cube root of 268,336,1251 " 
 Mozart was brought up in a musical family. Prob- 
 ably almost everything that he heard with refer- 
 ence to the theory or the practise of music, he 
 could, at once and forever, recall, imitate, illus- 
 trate, and develop logically. When a man's mind 
 acts in this way, we term him a genius. But genius 
 is a matter of degrees. When a man's mind has 
 merely a tendency to act in this way, we term him 
 a genius; and this tendency may be greatly devel- 
 oped by the study of art. In fact, it may be devel- 
 oped in some cases in which it is only latent. Many 
 find the strongest indication of the genius of Henry 
 Ward Beecher in his marvelous illustrative ability, 
 in his imaginative facility in arguments from anal- 
 ogy. He himself, in his "Yale Lectures," says 
 that, while in later life it was as easy for him to 
 illustrate as to breathe, he did not have this power 
 
THE LITEBAEY ARTIST 201 
 
 to any such extent in early manhood, but culti- 
 vated it. 
 
 Now, notice the inference from what has just 
 been said. If the subconscious powers of mind that 
 every man possesses operate like an automatic ma- 
 chine, producing approximately perfect results of 
 recollection, imitation, illustration, and — as devel- 
 oped from the premise submitted — of logic, then 
 the problem of education is how to cultivate the 
 conscious powers of the mind so that they shall be 
 more and more pliant to the touch of subconscious 
 influence, and thus be enabled to manifest out- 
 wardly that which is within one. The problem of 
 expressional art is how to cultivate the conscious 
 agencies of expression so that they shall respond 
 automatically to the promptings of the subconscious 
 agencies. The musician has always practically 
 solved this problem when he is pouring his whole 
 soul into his music, unconscious of anything but the 
 emotional effect that he desires to produce upon the 
 souls of his hearers. The sculptor and the painter 
 have always solved it, when they are projecting into 
 line and color, unconscious of being hampered by 
 any thought of technic, that picture which keen ob- 
 servation of the outer world has imprest upon their 
 conceptions. The poet has always solved it, when 
 he has lost himself in his theme, unconscious of 
 anything except that to which Milton referred in 
 " Paradise Lost," when he said that it 
 
 ' ' Dictates to me slumbering or inspires 
 Easy my unpremeditated verse. ' ' 
 
 As intimated here, this state in which thoughts 
 and emotions, i. e., mental forms, pass from the 
 
202 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 inner mind into external material forms, through 
 methods, of the details of which, at the time of its 
 action, the mind is unconscious, is the result of 
 what we sometimes term inspiration. But notice, 
 too, that it is often, even in cases of the most indis- 
 putable genius, a result, in part at least, of acquired 
 skill. Therefore, the inspirational and the artistic 
 are frequently exactly the same in effect. 
 
 Now what is the department that can best cause 
 the young to realize that this is the case, and, con- 
 sequently, to realize precisely what it is that skill 
 acquired by practise can do for one ? I think that it 
 must be a department in which, in the first place, 
 the young are least likely to imagine, before try- 
 ing it, that practise is essential ; in the second place, 
 one in which the largest number can have an oppor- 
 tunity of practising; and in the third place, one in 
 which, if they do practise, they can have an oppor- 
 tunity of recognizing most clearly, through their 
 own experience, the results of their labor. This 
 department is elocution. No one who has taught 
 in a college and has listened to the opinions of the 
 majority, perhaps, of its professors, needs to have 
 argued that it is the department in which practise 
 is least likely to be thought essential. What can be 
 more natural, it is asked, and therefore, can de- 
 mand less aid from art than speaking? If it be 
 suggested that gestures and emphasis are often un- 
 pleasing and inappropriate, it is supposed that 
 these defects can be corrected by a word or two of 
 common-sense criticism, which, as you will notice, 
 is exactly contrary to the conclusion legitimate 
 from the argument that has just been presented. 
 Not three weeks ago, I read an article in a paper 
 
THE LITERARY ARTIST 203 
 
 supposed to represent a knowledge of the condi- 
 tions of culture, attempting to show that the qual- 
 ity of the voice does not depend upon methods of 
 breathing, but entirely — ^not partly as everybody 
 admits — upon character. I once had a pupil who, 
 when a babe, had dropt upon his head and spine, 
 with the practical result of telescoping his lungs 
 and keeping his chin very near his abdomen. Tho 
 a dwarf, he was anxious to be a speaker ; but it took 
 a full year of hard practise for him to learn to 
 make, in a satisfactory way, a single elementary 
 vowel-sound. Two years later, he had a voice more 
 sweet, rich, and powerful than any man in his large 
 class. I refuse to believe that the change was ow- 
 ing to a change in his character. Nor will I admit 
 that, deformed as he was, his organs of expression 
 were in need of reformation in any sense not true 
 of those of scores of his fellows whose lungs, if not 
 actually telescoped, had cells as effectually shut up 
 as if this were the case. The light in a cathedral, 
 after nightfall, when shining through the unhewn 
 stone and wooden beams that occupy the space 
 where will be the rose window, as yet unfinished, 
 does not give expression to the Gothic character of 
 the building; nor can it give this, until the work of 
 art has chiseled the stone, and filled the interspaces 
 with delicate tracery and color. A similar relation- 
 ship often exists between the result of elocutionary 
 art and the expression of human character. 
 
 The second and the third conditions for a depart- 
 ment best causing the young to realize the neces- 
 sity of acquiring skill can be considered together. 
 The department in which the largest number of stu- 
 dents can have an opportunity of practising, and 
 
204 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 which, at the same time, can afford them the best 
 opportimity of having individual experience of the 
 results of practise, is elocution. Comparatively 
 few can study painting, sculpture, music, or archi- 
 tecture; and if they can, years often must elapse 
 before they can make sufficient progress to realize 
 what practise has done for them. But in a prop- 
 erly-equipped school or college, without interfering 
 with any other study, it is possible for every stu- 
 dent to be taught how to breathe, vocalize, empha- 
 size and gesture appropriately, and to practise 
 sufficiently to do all automatically. When he has 
 attained this stage, he will be prepared to reach 
 out, and apprehend how the principles involved in 
 the mastery of the elements of elocution apply to 
 success in literature. He will realize that a man 
 need not be a genius, in order to write well, and 
 that, if he be a genius, he cannot write well without 
 developing his gift according to the methods com- 
 mon to every art. In the degree, too, in which he 
 comes to take an interest in his work, he will begin 
 to perceive the fascination that there may be in the 
 study of form as form ; and no man ever became an 
 artist or able to appreciate art in any department, 
 until he had begun to perceive this. The young sel- 
 dom perceive it. They are more apt to feel sup- 
 prest than stimulated by talk with reference to 
 fine discriminations in the selection of words, or 
 artistic ingenuity in the arrangement of them. Al- 
 ways ready to admit in a general way the value of 
 style, in trying to detect its qualities for themselves 
 they are apt to use tools too big and bungling to dis- 
 cover any except superficial excellences. Like the 
 savage, they stand agaze at the huge, the loud, and 
 
THE LITERARY ARTIST 205 
 
 the coarse ; they fail to notice the delicate, the gentle, 
 and the fine. They believe in the realm of the 
 telescope, not of the microscope ; in that which can 
 wing itself among the clouds, not in that which must 
 watch and walk while keeping the motive power 
 of flight alive. They forget that the eagle has eyes, 
 as well as pinions ; and that the keenness of his sight 
 does not prevent him from soaring, but prevents 
 him, when he soars, from losing himself. 
 
 Of course, the claim is not meant to be made here 
 that no other study could train the mind in the di- 
 rections indicated. It is claimed, however, that no 
 other study can do it as readily, or is so available. 
 Fifty years ago in our country, this fact, or, at least, 
 the general principle underlying it, was recognized 
 as it is not to-day. At that time, the presidents of 
 all our prominent colleges— men like Nott, Griffin, 
 Hopkins, Woods, Wayland, Lord, Kirkland, Hum- 
 phrey, Finney — were rhetoricians, if not, as was 
 the case with many of them, elocutionists. The 
 whole curriculum was made a unity by aiming it in 
 the direction of expression, which certainly is a 
 wise thing to do, if the problem of education be, as 
 has been stated in this paper, how to get knowledge 
 not into the mind, but out of it. Every member of 
 the faculty, too, had to contribute a certain amount 
 of time to what was felt to be the necessity of list- 
 ening to speeches or of correcting essays. At pres- 
 ent, presidents are largely scientists or business 
 men, and no instructor not teaching English bothers 
 himself about essay-writing or public speaking. 
 This condition has its advantages, and perhaps can- 
 not be prevented; but it narrows the influence of 
 certain professors, and it deprives the students of 
 
206 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 needed stimulus. Besides, it puts an unjust burden 
 upon the professors of English. I never think of 
 a scientific professor receiving as much salary for 
 instructing his half-dozen or more pupils, as the 
 English professor for instructing his half-dozen 
 hundred, all of whom, to be properly instructed, 
 need, as frequently in science they do not, to be 
 criticized and drilled individually, without recalling 
 the supreme satisfaction — ^in the consciousness that 
 nothing about or above could compare in impor- 
 tance with her own brood — of an old hen that I once 
 saw strutting and cackling in the cellar of an opera- 
 house, while a performance was going on. 
 
 The other day I was told that a prominent New 
 England educational institution had abolished 
 " spouting " on commencement stage. Yet the 
 stream that does not spout a little at its source is 
 usually the last to get where it will fertilize the field 
 toward which it ought to flow. Students' orations 
 were discontinued, I was told, because trustees and 
 professors would not attend the exercises. So, in- 
 stead of them, there is now a parade of these dig- 
 nitaries, drest out in silk gowns with hoods of 
 various colors — scarlet, purple, green, yellow, blue, 
 indicative of their degrees. Eesult? — the seats of 
 the trustees and professors, which used to be va- 
 cant on Baccalaureate Sunday and at Commence- 
 ment, are filled to overflowing. This is the age of 
 the new woman. Does she threaten college-ideals 
 as much as the scarlet woman was once supposed to 
 threaten church-ideals? What will be her influence 
 in the direction of intellectuality? How will she 
 affect high thinking and plain living? Is the color 
 — ^unobjectionable, of course, per se — to be used in 
 
THE LITERARY ARTIST 207 
 
 that way whicli is always esthetieally objectionable, 
 namely, as a substitute for a regard for proportion? 
 Is the old American aim of educational training for 
 citizenship to be changed into the English aim of 
 training for class distinctions? Does it really add 
 to college life the dignity of which we hear, to ar- 
 rive at a condition in which educators, instead of 
 being present at exercises in order to show their 
 sympathy with the literary efforts of the under- 
 graduates, crowd to them in order to show the silks 
 upon themselves; or in which parents and friends, 
 who, without expecting much enlightenment, once 
 enjoyed suggestions of promise in the orations of 
 the young, are now supposed to enjoy far more 
 such suggestions as can be found in the gyrations 
 of the old? In the former times to which reference 
 has been made, when expression was considered an 
 essential part of educational development, our col- 
 leges were turning out such men as Webster, 
 Everett, Phillips, Beecher, Longfellow, Hawthorne, 
 Lowell, Holmes, Prescott, and Motley. It certainly 
 seems as if there were something essentially right 
 in a system of instruction that could stimulate the 
 completeness and finish of literary culture mani- 
 fested by men like these, even if we cannot logically 
 ascribe to the changes made in that system, as some 
 do, the indisputable fact that none of the colleges 
 from which these men were graduated have, of late 
 years, turned out a single orator or author whose 
 artistic appreciation and attainment does not rep- 
 resent a distinctly lower educational result. 
 
THE NEED OF ELOCUTIONARY TRAINING 
 IN THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
 It never would have occurred to me to argue the 
 question at the head of this article, had I not been 
 requested to do so by the editor of The Homiletic 
 Review* As the object of a theological seminary 
 is to traia preachers, it would seem to follow as a 
 natural inference that some part of its training 
 should be expended upon the voice that is to be used 
 in preaching. The only escape from this inference 
 lies in taking the ground that training of this kind 
 is unnecessary. Some, I believe, actually do say 
 this. As if high excellence in any sphere could be 
 attained without persistent and intelligently di- 
 rected labor, they tell us that the speaker, like the 
 poet, ' ' is born not made ' ' ; but they overlook the 
 fact, emphasized in the biography of every poet, 
 that, if one " born " with poetic possibilities wish 
 ever to obtain sufficient command of the technic of 
 his art to insure him reputation and influence, there 
 is a very true sense in which he must be " made." 
 So with the speaker. From Demosthenes and 
 Cicero down to Clay and Phillips, the testimony of 
 those whom the world calls born orators is almost 
 unanimous with reference to the necessity of train- 
 ing. Who, for instance, is the born orator of the 
 American pulpit ? Were the question to be submitted 
 
 * See The Homiletic Beview for May, 1887. 
 
ELOCUTION AND THEOLOGY 209 
 
 to the vote of the country, there is no doubt that, by 
 an overwhelming majority, the answer would be, 
 Henry Ward Beecher. Notice now to what, in his 
 " Yale Lectures," Mr. Beecher largely attributes his 
 oratorical powers. " If you desire," he says, " to 
 have your voice at its best and to make the best use 
 of it, you must go into a drill which will become so 
 familiar that it ceases to be a matter of thought 
 and the voice takes care of itself. This ought to be 
 done under the best instructors. ... It was my 
 good fortune in early academic life to fall into the 
 hands of Prof. Lovell . . . and for a period of 
 three years I was drilled incessantly (you might 
 not suspect it, but I was) in posturing, gesture, and 
 voice culture. . . . Afterwards, when going to 
 the seminary, I carried the method of his instruc- 
 tions with me, as did others. We practised a great 
 deal on what was called ' Dr. Barber's system,' 
 . , . which was then in vogue, and particularly 
 in developing the voice in its lower register, and 
 also upon the explosive tones. There was a large 
 grove lying between the seminary and my father's 
 house, and it was the habit of my brother Charles 
 and myself and one or two others to make the 
 night and even the day hideous with our voices as 
 we passed backward and forward through the 
 woods exploding all the vowels. . . . The drill 
 that I underwent produced not a rhetorical man- 
 ner, but a flexible instrument that accommodated 
 itself readily to every kind of thought and every 
 shade of feeling, and obeyed the inward will in the 
 outward realization of the results of rules and 
 regulations. . . . There is just as much reason 
 for the preliminary elocutionary drill of the body as 
 
210 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 there is for the training of the body for any athletic 
 exercise. ' ' 
 
 What Mr. Beecher is to the American pulpit Mr. 
 Spurgeon is to the English, and a few years ago, 
 Dr. Guthrie was to the Scottish. Spurgeon has 
 written a whole book on elocution, showing the 
 careful study that he has given to the subject, and 
 Guthrie, in his Autobiography, says: "I had, 
 when a student of divinity . . . attended elocu- 
 tion classes, winter after winter, walking across half 
 the city and more after eight o'clock at night, fair 
 weather and foul. . . . There I learned to . . . 
 be in fact natural; to acquire a command over my 
 voice so as to suit its force and emphasis to the 
 sense, and to modulate it so as to express the feel- 
 ings. . . . Many have supposed that I owe the 
 power I have of modulating my voice, and giving 
 effect thereby to what I am delivering, to a musical 
 ear. On the contrary, I . . . have not the ves- 
 tige even of a musical faculty, never knowing when 
 people go off the tune but when they stick." 
 
 The testimony of preachers like these will have 
 more influence with the readers of this Review 
 than anything that I can say; but my experience 
 may enable me to add to the force of their testi- 
 mony by presenting a few reasons why this testi- 
 mony should be what it is. Many traits must enter 
 into the composition of the successful pulpit orator, 
 — intellectual, emotional, spiritual and physical. A 
 man may have all but the last of these — the aver- 
 age theological student usually does — and yet fail 
 of success. Thought, feeling and earnestness can- 
 not exert their appropriate influence, if the speak- 
 er's voice be too weak to express them at all, or 
 
ELOCUTION AND THEOLOGY 211 
 
 too harsli and inflexible to express them adequately. 
 " Very well," it may be said, " if a man's voice be 
 deficient let Mm go into some other profession." 
 This, of course, would end the difficulty; but un- 
 fortunately, if applied by one with a high standard, 
 it would end most of our preaching. For myself, 
 after an experience with large classes of students 
 for thirteen years, I can say that I have never yet 
 come into contact with any American whose voice did 
 not need at least a little training. And I can say 
 more than this, — that a large proportion of those 
 who needed it most — so much that no friend would 
 have dreamed of advising them to become public 
 speakers — ^have proved themselves to be possest of 
 a genuine gift of eloquence just as soon as their 
 organs have been developed so as to enable them to 
 express what was in them. "Would it be wise to de- 
 prive the Church of the services of such as these? 
 
 Most Americans need this training because, as a 
 result of heredity and habit, few in our northern 
 climates use their organs of respiration and utter- 
 ance in such ways as to produce the best vocal ef- 
 fects. Instead, for instance, of expelling the breath 
 from the lower part of the lungs, where there are 
 large muscles fitted to do this work, and from which 
 place all the air in the lungs can be made to pass 
 into sound, while the bronchial tubes of the upper 
 chest are left in a passive condition in which they 
 are free to vibrate and render the tones resonant, 
 many, especially those of sedentary habits, expel 
 the breath from the upper chest, overtaxing the 
 weak muscles there, utilizing only a part of the air 
 in the lungs, and rigidly contracting the bronchial 
 tubes. The same persons or others misuse also the 
 
212 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 muscles at the back of tlie nostrils, tongue, and 
 palate. Like the bronchial tubes, these, during the 
 process of speaking, should be left in a passive con- 
 dition so as to act as a vibratory sounding-board 
 to reinforce the tone and throw it forward. But 
 often with every effort at articulation they are con- 
 tracted, producing, as a result, the sharp or the 
 harsh nasal tone so common among us, if not, as 
 frequently happens, on account of the irritating 
 effects of a wrong use of the organs, producing 
 chronic catarrh or laryngitis, — the latter so charac- 
 teristic of our clergy as to be popularly termed the 
 " clergyman's sore throat." In aggravated cases, 
 the physically sympathetic connection between these 
 muscles and those of the lips and the front of the 
 tongue where the work of articulation belongs, 
 causes stuttering; and it was undoubtedly in order 
 to break up this connection that Demosthenes, as 
 every schoolboy knows, practised with his mouth 
 filled with pebbles. While thus curing his stam- 
 mering, he necessarily developed also that strength 
 and sweetness of tone, which are heard only where 
 the organs of resonance and of articulation are used 
 properly. 
 
 Instead of filling the mouth with pebbles, there 
 are other methods employed in our own day, which 
 are the results of the experiments of physicians 
 and teachers continued through many years. They 
 consist of exercises simple in character but difficult 
 to prescribe because differing for requirements of 
 different voices, or of different stages in the de- 
 velopment of the same voice. Hence, the necessity 
 of having some one who understands his business 
 to indicate in each case what the exercise should be. 
 
ELOCUTION AND THEOLOGY 213 
 
 " Elocutionary training" as Mr. Beecher is careful 
 to say, " ought to be done under the best in- 
 structors." I have frequently found students com- 
 ing from schools or colleges where there was some 
 tradition of elocutionary training but no instructor, 
 who were practising with the utmost scrupulousness 
 and persistence, exercises whose only effect could 
 be to confirm them in faults which it was of prime 
 importance for them to overcome. They needed 
 a teacher to show them both what to practise, and 
 how to practise ; for, at first, it is, for most, a physi- 
 cal impossibility to produce properly the combina- 
 tions of sounds that they require. They needed a 
 teacher, too, to keep them from practising advanced 
 exercises. Indeed, to effect this, is often the most 
 difficult part of his task, inasmuch as elementary 
 exercises are always monotonous, never othei'wise 
 than indirectly beneficial, and seldom productive of 
 results which the student is prepared to appreciate. 
 Voice-building, of which I have been speaking, 
 constitutes the most important part of the elocu- 
 tionist's work. But, in addition to this, he must 
 give instruction in gesture and emphasis. The 
 meanings and methods of gesture can be taught in 
 a few lessons to any diligent pupil who is not posi- 
 tively deformed. To teach emphasis is more diffi- 
 cult. But no one, I think, can teach either this or 
 gesture who has not made a special study of the 
 principles underlying each subject, and of what is 
 required in putting them into practise. I have 
 known of a theological professor, who, for twenty 
 years, had been asking all his friends who were 
 not elocutionists, what was wrong with his de- 
 livery, and had never obtained a correct answer. 
 
214 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 An ordinarily intelligent elocutionist could have 
 given him a true diagnosis in three minutes; and 
 possibly cured him in three weeks. Faults of em- 
 phasis may result from a wrong use of the ele- 
 ments either of time, pitch, volume or force, and 
 that, too, in very subtle matters, like the habitual 
 application of the most force at the beginning, the 
 middle, or the end of a syllable. How can a man 
 of inexperience be supposed to be able to perceive 
 the source of faults like these, or to know what kind 
 of exercises can overcome them? The same ques- 
 tion may be asked with reference to faults less dif- 
 ficult to analyze. A very common one among those 
 who are called natural speakers, and who, too, 
 when schoolboys, usually carry off the prizes for 
 declamation, consists merely in ending every sen- 
 tence of a speech in a manner appropriate for its 
 concluding sentence. Where the fault is mani- 
 fested, an audience can listen for five or ten 
 minutes, perhaps, without becoming wearied, but 
 generally not longer than this. The manner, irre- 
 spective of the matter, begins, after a while, to make 
 one feel disappointed, because the speech does not 
 end. I have never heard of an uninstructed critic 
 who could even detect, much less who could correct 
 a fault like this. I speak from experience derived 
 from noticing the effects of the training of some of 
 the brightest of students upon one another, when 
 I say that what this kind of a critic frequently does 
 is to make a mistake in his diagnosis, and to cause 
 those whom he criticises to cultivate unduly, often 
 by way of imitating himself, certain elements of 
 emphasis to which their attention should never 
 have been directed. The effect produced is arti- 
 
ELOCUTION AND THEOLOGY 215 
 
 ficiality, which, in speaking, invariably results 
 from paying attention, and therefore, giving im- 
 portance to something that should be treated as if 
 of little or no importance. 
 
 Just here, I am aware that I am treading upon 
 disputed ground. The one reason why some object 
 to elocutionary training is that they suppose that 
 elocutionists, rather than those of whom I am now 
 speaking, cause artificiality. Might it not be more 
 sensible to attribute this result to a lack of judg- 
 ment on the part of any, whether elocutionists or 
 not, who direct the training ; and, other things being 
 equal, will not a man who has made a special study 
 of the subject be apt to direct this training the more 
 wisely? Some decry all physicians on the ground 
 that they kill off their patients. But this is true, as 
 a rule, only of quacks. There are certain physi- 
 cians who benefit their patients; and the same is 
 true of some elocutionists. If those called upon to 
 select the latter would only exercise a little com- 
 mon sense, it might be true of almost all of them. 
 A man's credentials for such a position should be 
 examined. Has he studied the art, and with whom? 
 Has he had experience in teaching, and with what 
 results ? More than that, what kind of a man is he 
 in himself? Has he good judgment and insight? 
 Has he modesty, so that he will give his pupils 
 merely what they need, not what he thinks that he 
 himself needs in order to increase their regard for 
 him? Above all, has he the artistic temperament? 
 — that supremacy of instinct over reflection and 
 that flexibility, mental and physical, which enable a 
 man to remain master of himself and of his ma- 
 terial, notwithstanding any amount of the latter 
 
216 EDUCATION, AET AND CIVICS 
 
 with wliicli instruction and information may have 
 surrounded him? How does he himself, in his 
 own reading and speaking, manifest the results of 
 the system that he purposes to teach? Occasion- 
 ally, one meets candidates for such positions who 
 articulate with such pedantic precision that he feels 
 like shaking them to see if teeth and tongue, which 
 appear to have cut connection with head and heart, 
 cannot actually drop out. There are others who 
 emphasize with so much artificiality that the chief 
 impression conveyed comes from the dexterity with 
 which subordinate words and clauses are kept dan- 
 cing up and down, as if intent to assume an impor- 
 tance that will keep the main sense in the back- 
 ground. It seems needless to say that the pupils for 
 whom instruction is desired as well as the cause of 
 elocution in general, will be best served by turning 
 the thoughts of such candidates toward some course 
 in life where they will be less likely to do harm. But 
 there are plenty of teachers who are not of this 
 sort; and to the instructions of some one of them, 
 all the fully-equipped orators with whom I have 
 ever talked on the subject, have attributed a part 
 of their success. I say fully-equipped orators, ' 
 because I have, indeed, known a few partially 
 equipped, with harsh voices that could penetrate 
 the ear but seldom touch the heart, or with peculiar 
 antics that could attract the eye but certainly not 
 charm the soul, who prided themselves on not hav- 
 ing studied that of which it was their first duty to 
 become masters. Not infrequently, however, I have 
 found that these same men had tried one elocu- 
 tionist, at least once, and I have concluded that he 
 probably told them the truth, for they have assured 
 
ELOCUTION AND THEOLOGY 217 
 
 me that they had never gone to him a second time. 
 Were my space not exhausted I should like to 
 dwell upon the fact, that the reading whether of the 
 Scriptures, the liturgy, or the sermon, is something 
 in which even good speakers often require special 
 instruction. I should like to show, too, the indirect 
 influence which a study of elocution has upon many 
 related forms of expression, by bringing a man into 
 connection with principles and experiences common 
 to all the arts. Here, I can only suggest its relation- 
 ship to literary art. A man who knows just where 
 to pause and emphasize in order to produce the best 
 elocutionary effects, will know also how to arrange 
 his words the most effectively when writing. Still 
 greater will be the influence of the same fact upon 
 his oratorical rhetoric. He will instinctively come to 
 present his thoughts not only rhythmically but em- 
 phatically. His good elocution will secure him an 
 audience when he speaks, and often, too, when what 
 he speaks is put into print. 
 
AET AS THE SOUECE OF LOGICAL FOEM 
 IN OEATOEY AND POETEY 
 
 The ability to present thought logically, as is said, 
 which is acknowledged to be well-nigh essential to 
 success, not only in public address, but in all forms 
 of written presentation, is not so much a matter of 
 logic as of art. As such, it does not invariably 
 necessitate logical training, nor even a logical 
 mind. The art, too, may be acquired with compara- 
 tive ease. Both the principles underlying it, and 
 the methods of applying it are so elementary in 
 character that, were it not for the innumerable 
 cases in which one is obliged to recognize a viola- 
 tion of them, he might hesitate to present them for 
 consideration in pages like these. But, as it is, that 
 which has proved helpful to less mature minds may 
 not be wholly devoid of profitable suggestions to 
 even some of the readers of this Review* 
 
 Every art is developed by making a study of 
 methods natural to exceptional men who, because 
 they take to them naturally, do not need to culti- 
 vate them. The methods to be unfolded here are 
 applied by large numbers in unconscious and in- 
 stinctive fulfilment of a principle underlying almost 
 any effort to give expression to thought. Of course, 
 those who do not apply them unconsciously can and 
 should be instructed so as to become able if possible 
 to apply them consciously. The principle is the 
 
 • The Homiletic Beview for October, 1892. 
 
THE ART OF LOGICAL FORM 219 
 
 well-known one in accordance with which, when we 
 have any conception to communicate to others, we 
 instinctively associate it with some sight or sound 
 in the external world. Otherwise, as thought itself 
 is invisible and inaudible, we might not be able to 
 make them acquainted with it. For instance, this 
 term expression, just used, means a pressing out, — 
 an operation that can be affirmed literally only of a 
 material substance which is forcibly expelled from 
 another material substance; but, because we recog- 
 nize a possibility of comparison between this opera- 
 tion and the way in which immaterial thought is 
 made to leave the immaterial mind, we use the term 
 as we do. So with thousands of terms like under- 
 standing, uprightness, clearness, muddled, etc. 
 Carrying out the same principle, the ancients rep- 
 resented whole sentences through the use of hiero- 
 glyphics; and geometricians and scientists, even of 
 our own times, represent whole arguments — the 
 logical relations of abstract ideas and the physical 
 relations of intangible forces — through the use of 
 lines and figures. In a similar way and with a 
 similar justification, we can apply the principle to 
 the expression of thought in a subject considered 
 as a whole. 
 
 The sights or sounds in external nature, to which 
 we may compare this thought, may be conceived of 
 as occupying, chiefly, a certain portion of space, as 
 a house does; or of time, as a melody does. Most 
 things, however, and all having animal life, while 
 chiefly occupying the one or the other of these ele- 
 ments, actually occupy both, or, at , least, suggest 
 both; like a man's body, for instance, which has 
 both bulk and movement. For this reason the arts 
 
220 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 of sight must usually represent in space not only 
 wliat occupies space, but also tinae. Thus a picture 
 often portrays an event; and this requires a sug- 
 gestion at least, of a series of actions. Indeed, the 
 ability to embody such a suggestion, furnishes one 
 reason why a product of the higher art of painting 
 differs from a photograph. On one side of a can- 
 vas, for example, a painter may depict a man as 
 drawing a bow; and on the other side of the same 
 canvas, he may depict an arrow^ which has evi- 
 dently just left the bow, as having hit its mai-k. In 
 the arts of sound, among which we must class all 
 compositions involving a use of language, a corre- 
 sponding principle operates. Think how large a 
 proportion of the most artistic, in the sense of being 
 the most effective, pasFiages in orations or poems 
 describe visible persons or events. The words oc- 
 cupy time; but they represent to imagination, so 
 that one seems to seo them, face to face, things that 
 occupy space. 
 
 Not merely, as judged by separate illustrations, 
 but by general arrangement, that oration or poem 
 is the most successful which presents the thought 
 in this depicted or graphic way, — a way that causes 
 the hearer or reader to seem to see all the lines of 
 the argument mapped out before him, the entire 
 framework of the ideas built up and standing in 
 front of him. But before a speaker or writer can 
 produce such an effect, he himself must be able to 
 see his subject lying before him, or rising in front 
 of him ; in other words, he must be able to conceive 
 of it as comparable to some external object whose 
 shape or movement can be perceived. The prin- 
 ciple that is now to be applied, being based upon a 
 
THE ABT OF LOGICAL FORM 221 
 
 conception of this kind is, therefore, of such a na- 
 ture as not only to make easy the work of dividing 
 subjects logically, but also to make effective the 
 presentation of them. 
 
 Let us consider, first, certain methods of forming 
 two general divisions, suggested by the appearance 
 or condition of objects in connection with their po- 
 sitions and effects. Bearing in mind that we are to 
 conceive of our topic as represented by a visible ob- 
 ject, let us recall again that this object may be per- 
 ceived either in space, in which case it has location ; 
 or in time, in which case it has movement. Suppose 
 we perceive it in space, then we may notice The 
 Object and also Its Eelations to other objects, or 
 — what is the same thing exprest differently — we 
 may notice Itself and also Its Surroundings. This 
 way of looking at it will give two divisions, into 
 one or the other of which we can put all that we want 
 to say about the object so perceived; and, for this 
 reason, about the topic also, which the object is sup- 
 posed to represent. These two divisions, thus de- 
 rived, may now suggest others analogous to them 
 in principle, but differing in phraseology in order ~ 
 to meet the requirements of different subjects to 
 which they are to be applied. For instance, instead 
 of saying Object and Its Relations, we may say, if 
 treating of persons, Individual and Community; if 
 of their character, Private and Public; if of their 
 influence, as in the case of a statesman, At Home 
 and Abroad. If dealing with corporate as well as 
 individual life, we may discuss its Character and 
 Associations; or its Constitution and Circum- 
 stances; or, if referring to principles, natural or 
 philosophic, we may speak of their Elements and 
 
222 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 Affinities or their Essence and Environment. 
 Practically there are no ends of the ways in which 
 we may change our phraseology, and yet not depart 
 from the general method suggesting it. 
 
 Again, if we choose, we may confine our attention 
 to only the object itself. In this case a thorough 
 examination must include a consideration of Its 
 Outside and also of Its Inside; or, to use the tech- 
 nical terms that conventionally designate these re- 
 spectively, Its Conditions and also Its Qualities. 
 Here, again, we have two divisions, into one or the 
 other of which we can put all that we want to say 
 about the object, or the topic, considered merely in 
 itself; and changing the phraseology, in the ways 
 and for the reasons indicated in the last paragraph, 
 we may form such divisions as Externally and In- 
 ternally, Superficially and Intrinsically, Appear- 
 ance and Reality, Class and Kind, Eeputation and 
 Character, Accident and Essential, Form and 
 Spirit, and others like these. 
 
 Once more, we may consider the object only in 
 time, or as related to movement; and this again 
 will lead us to put everything into two divisions — 
 namely. The Object and Its Actions, analogous to 
 which we can form other divisions like In Itself and 
 In its Eesults, Cause and Effect, Character and In- 
 fluence, Nature and Workings, Motives and Manner, 
 Means and Methods, and Principles and Practises. 
 
 Eecalling now what has been said in the three 
 paragraphs above, we may notice that the Relations 
 of the object as suggested by what surrounds it in 
 space, the Object itself, and its Actions as they are 
 perceived by its movements in time, can also furnish 
 divisions, into which to put all that need be said of an 
 
THE ART OF LOGICAL FOBM 223 
 
 object or a topic. But, holding still to our purpose, 
 whicli is to compare the topic as a whole to some 
 perceptible object, let us suppose this, first, to be 
 one appearing in space, and, therefore, character- 
 ized mainly by shape; and let us make three divi- 
 sions suggested by shape, somewhat analogous, tho 
 not closely so, to Eolations, Object and Actions. 
 Plato was evidently thinking of an appearance in 
 space when he said that every work of art must 
 have Feet, Trunk and Head. Following out his 
 suggestion, we may make divisions like Bottom, 
 Sides and Top; Foundation, Walls and Eoof; Min- 
 eral, Vegetable and Animal; Physical, Intellectual 
 and Spiritual; Grounds, Beliefs and Speculations; 
 Certainties, Probabilities and Surmises; Fact, 
 Theory and Practise, etc. 
 
 Now, let us compare our topic to an object ap- 
 pearing in time, and, therefore, characterized 
 mainly by movement. This is evidently what Aris- 
 totle did when he said that every work of art should 
 have Beginning, Middle and End. Following out 
 his suggestion, we may make divisions like Past, 
 Present and Future; What I recall, What I see. 
 What I anticipate; Antecedents, Achievements and 
 Expectations ; Source, Nature and Eesults ; Deriva- 
 tion, Condition and Tendencies; History, Character 
 and Destiny; and so on indefinitely. 
 
 Going back, now, to the fact mentioned in the 
 fourth paragraph above this — namely, that we may 
 divide the Object into its Outside and Inside; or 
 into its Condition and Qualities; we may extend 
 Eelations, Object and Actions, into Eelations, Con- 
 ditions, Qualities and Actions ; and thus obtain four 
 divisions. These, too, by the way, are the very 
 
224 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 terms that are used in logic to indicate the leading 
 attributes of objects, and a knowledge of which is 
 especially helpful when one is describing or defin- 
 ing; as when we say of a man, that, in his relations 
 he is social, in his condition healthy, in his qualities 
 intellectual, and in his actions energetic. Making 
 the same changes in phraseology as in the previous 
 cases, we may parallel these divisions by such as 
 the following: as applied to a person or community, 
 by Surroundings, Constitution, Temperament, and 
 Conduct; by Associations, Culture, Disposition and 
 Achievements; as applied to natural objects or to 
 systems of philosophy or government, by Connec- 
 tions, Constituents, Essentials, Effects; by Affini- 
 ties, Phases, Character and Influence; by Eank, 
 State, Kind and Powers ; and so on. 
 
 So far our divisions have all been based upon a 
 comparison of a topic to the conditions of an ob- 
 ject, as appearing either in space or in time. But 
 the object, besides having conditions, as has just 
 been intimated, has qualities. This fact suggests 
 that we may ask, what kinds of Eelations, of Con- 
 ditions, of Qualities or of Actions can be affirmed; 
 and also that our answers to these questions can ia 
 each case suggest divisions. Thus the idea of the 
 kinds of relations suggests that we can consider 
 those that are on One Side and on the Other Side; 
 Before and Behind ; Antecedents and Consequences ; 
 Means and Ends ; at One Extreme and at The Other 
 Extreme; that the object has a Bright Side and a 
 Dark Sid6; and that it may have certain features 
 that are Advantageous and others Disadvanta- 
 geous ; certain Superior and others Inferior, etc. 
 
 The idea of the kinds of conditions suggests that 
 
TEE AET OF LOGICAL FORM 225 
 
 ■we may consider some Higli and others Low; some 
 Rich and others Poor; some Prosperous and others 
 Unprosperous ; some Popular and others Unpopu- 
 lar; some Free and others Restrained; some Safe 
 and others Dangerous, etc. 
 
 The idea of the kinds of qualities suggests that 
 we may consider some Good and others Bad; some 
 Fine and others Coarse; some Common and others 
 Uncommon; some Pleasant and others Disagree- 
 able; some Admirable and others Despicable; some 
 Trustworthy and others Untrustworthy; some Posi- 
 tive and others Negative, etc. 
 
 The idea of the kinds of actions suggests that we 
 may consider some Slow and others Fast; some 
 Beneficial and others Injurious; some Skilful and 
 others Bungling; some Efficient and others Ineffi- 
 cient; some Subjective and others Objective; some 
 Profitable and others Unprofitable; some Peace- 
 able and others Hostile. 
 
 The reader will recognize that these methods of 
 dividing subjects will not only make his presenta- 
 tion logical, but will also of themselves suggest 
 thought, and thus aid his powers of invention. For 
 instance, if asked to address a gathering interested 
 in a certain cause, he will have something to say, how- 
 ever embarrassed, in case only he can think of divi- 
 sions like these. What I recall. What I see. What 
 I anticipate. Or if he be preparing a sermon on a 
 text like ' ' I am not ashamed of the Grospel of Christ, 
 for it is the power of God unto salvation," he can 
 present the subject, both textually and logically by 
 saying, I am not ashamed of the Gospel, because, in 
 its Source, it is of God ; in its Nature, a power ; and, 
 in its Results, salvation. 
 
226 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 Analyses of the kind suggested can be made, 
 moreover, not only of tlie topic considered as a 
 whole, but of each, subdivision of it. Suppose that 
 one be treating of Political Life. He can speak of 
 it, first, in Itself, and under this he can refer to its 
 Character and its Influence, and to the latter both 
 At Home and Abroad. Then, second, he can speak 
 of its Surroundings, both Private and Public; and 
 with reference to both of these he may mention what 
 is Advantageous and Disadvantageous; and per- 
 haps, too, Pleasant and Disagreeable. 
 
 Two divisions, of course, one of which is comple- 
 mentary of the other, are more in accordance with 
 the principles of logic than are a larger number. 
 At the same time, the latter are not necessarily 
 illogical. Aristotle, for instance, in Book II., Chap- 
 ter 10, of his " Ehetoric," says: " All things are 
 done by men either not of themselves, or of them- 
 selves. Of things not done by men of themselves, 
 some they do from necessity, others they do from 
 chance; of those done from necessity, a part are 
 from external force; the others are from force of 
 natural constitution. So that all that men do, not 
 of themselves, are either from chance or from na- 
 ture or force. ' ' 
 
 The number of divisions may be very greatly ex- 
 tended, too, with no serious detriment to the logical 
 effect. Certain of those that have been given — ^like 
 Foundation, Walls and Eoof, for instance — are of 
 importance, not less because of the completeness 
 than of the order that they introduce into descrip- 
 tion. A hearer could not be interested in an ac- 
 count of a cathedral, or remember it, if the describer 
 were to mention one feature of the foundation, then 
 
TEE ABT OF LOGICAL FORM 227 
 
 one of the roof, then one of the walls, and then an- 
 other of the roof again, and so on. As a rule, he 
 is expected to say everything that he has to say of 
 the foundation before he talks about the walls, 
 and to finish his description of these before refer- 
 ring to the roof. Because, in such cases, all that is 
 essential is to preserve the order of thought, it is 
 feasible sometimes, to analyze one or more of the 
 factors of divisions, such as Individual and Com- 
 munity, into many heads, like Individual, Family, 
 Eace and Humanity; or divisions like At Home 
 and Abroad into Home, Town, District, Country, 
 World and Universe. Often it is possible to fulfil 
 the requirements of order, and, at the same time — be- 
 cause of allied principles of analysis, together with 
 slightly different methods of applying them — to 
 combine certain of the sets of divisions that have 
 been mentioned. Thus, Eise, Culmination and De- 
 cline, together with History, Character and Destiny, 
 can be turned into Eise, History, Culmination, 
 Character, Decline and Destiny. 
 
 There is a connection worth noticing now between 
 the methods that have suggested all these sets of 
 divisions, especially as represented in the terms 
 Eolations, Conditions, Qualities and Actions, and a 
 well-known principle of logic which is, that in treat- 
 ing a subject, thought should move by successive 
 stages from the generic to the specific, or from the 
 specific to the generic. This connection is owing to 
 the fact that, in passing from the generic to the 
 specific, the process of analysis usually moves from 
 that which has mainly to do with the Eelations, or, 
 at least, the environments of a subject, to that which 
 may be said to belong to it specifically, i. e., to its 
 
228 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 Conditions and Qualities, because being, as it were, 
 at its core; and that, wMle passing outward from 
 this, the process of synthesis usually moves so as to 
 show the Actions or influence of that which is, in 
 the sense indicated, specific upon that which is 
 more generic in its relations and environments. 
 Dr. Mark Hopkins, in his " Outline Study of Man," 
 illustrates this method by starting with the general 
 conception of Being, and passing from that through 
 Organized Being, Animal, Vertebrate, Mammal and 
 Man to a Specific Man. Then, affirming something 
 of this man, he retraces his steps exactly in reverse 
 order, applying what has been said, first to Man, 
 then to Mammal, Vertebrate, Animal, Organized 
 Being, and finally to Being. So one may start with 
 the general conception of Humanity, and advanc- 
 ing through Eace and Country to Government 
 affirm something of this, and apply what is said in 
 succession to Country, Eace, Humanity. So also 
 moving through relations that are Physical, Intel- 
 lectual and Moral to the Spiritual, he may apply 
 what is said of this in succession to actions that are 
 Moral, Intellectual and Physical; and moving from 
 Nature through Human Nature and Esthetic Na- 
 ture to Art, he may apply what is said of this in 
 succession to Esthetic Nature, Human Nature, and 
 Nature. It is evident that whenever we begin by 
 observing in this way the more general relations 
 or features of a subject and pass from these to 
 those that are more specific, and, having reached 
 the latter, go on to show the particular influence 
 that these latter exert first in their more specific, 
 and then in their more generic relations, we pursue 
 an order of thought which fulfils a principle similar 
 
THE ART OF LOGICAL FORM 229 
 
 to that underlying all the formulae tliat have been 
 here unfolded. 
 
 Enough has been said now to make clear what 
 this principle is, as well as to suggest the methods 
 through which it may be applied. It is hardly nec- 
 essary to add that the sets of divisions that have 
 been indicated may be almost infinitely varied in 
 phraseology; or that, for this reason, there is no 
 necessity that they should be used or imitated slav- 
 ishly. In fact, it is hardly possible that, for any 
 length of time, they should be used thus. The prin- 
 ciple at the basis of them is so easy to understand 
 and master that any endeavors to carry it out will, 
 after a few attempts, give a man such a command 
 of it as to render him practically independent of 
 any prescribed methods of applying it. 
 
THE LAWS OF ENGLISH ORTHOGEAPHY: 
 
 SUGGESTIONS FOR SIMPLIFIED 
 
 SPELLING * 
 
 " Two educational societies of Great Britain, the 
 English National Union of Elementary Teachers, 
 and the Scottish Educational Institute, have been 
 cooperating recently in an endeavor to devise some 
 practical scheme for lessening the anomalies in 
 English orthography." — This statement, published 
 lately in some of our newspapers, together with 
 various other remarks, inquiries, and discussions 
 with reference to the same subject, prominent 
 among which is an article in a recent number of one 
 of our popular magazines, entitled Japanning the 
 English Language, have recalled to my mind the 
 fact of the existence of a roll of manuscript, that, 
 
 * The principal part of the following paper is reprinted from the 
 first of six articles, published weekly, between May 9th and June 13th, 
 1874, in the Tale Courant, then edited by Professor H. N. Day. At 
 that time, the general subject discust was so unpopular, and the 
 particular suggestions derived from it in the papers were supposed 
 to be so unscholarly, that the writer was denied promotion in the 
 institution in which he was just beginning to teach; and he would 
 have been driven from it entirely, had not some one conceived the 
 idea of privately consulting as experts upon philology, certain men 
 like Professors H. N. Day, who had accepted the articles, William 
 D. Whitney and Francis A. March. By-and-by, after weeks of 
 that embarrassment and trouble, often having nothing to do with 
 the original cause, which inevitably follow upon opposition vague in 
 character, but coming from influential sources, and which no gen- 
 tleman would care to wield the appropriate weapons to avert, an- 
 swers were received, and read by the President of the College before 
 every member of the Board of Trustees and of the Faculty, with 
 special care, so it was reported, to read them emphatically to those 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 231 
 
 for some time, has been lying untouched in a drawer 
 of my study table. It is a relic of one of those tran- 
 sient periods of devotion to the study of old Eng- 
 lish that, probably, is experienced by everyone who, 
 for any cause, desires to become familiar with the 
 implements of our literature. 
 
 I recur to these papers now because, in connec- 
 tion with the main object that occasioned them, I 
 was enabled, as I thought when they were written, 
 and still think, to detect some general principles 
 with reference to English orthography, that cer- 
 tainly are not recognized by people in general, and 
 never yet have been presented or classified similarly 
 by professional philologists. 
 
 A few of these principles, derived, as will be per- 
 ceived, legitimately and historically, from a study 
 of the earliest sources of our language, may not 
 prove a wholly profitless contribution to a subject 
 that, just now, seems to be engaging more than 
 usual attention. And with good reason : it is doubt- 
 ful if, a few years hence, it may not be considered 
 
 who exprest a desire not to hear them. After this, the writer was 
 informed that he had been ' ' triumphantly vindicated. ' ' PossibJy, 
 he had been, tho it is doubtful whether some ever accepted that 
 view of the subject. Present readers will probably wonder, as he 
 himself did then, why simple statements of facts perfectly easy to 
 verify, and logical deductions from them should ever, in any scholastic 
 community whatever, need vindication. Subsequently, Professor 
 Whitney, when asked by the author to be put into connection with 
 any sources that would facilitate a further study of the subject, 
 wrote in reply, under date of July 1, 1874, as follows: "There have 
 been sent to me at various times plans for a phonetic orthography 
 of English, but none for a reformation of the kind that you sug- 
 gest; nor do I remember to have seen anywhere a scheme so carefully 
 reasoned out as yours. I wish it might attract a great deal of atten- 
 tion. There are principles enough in English spelling, and you have 
 drawn out and stated such as would bring an immense improvement 
 in it. I do not see that philologists can find fault with your pro- 
 posals. ' ' 
 
232 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 one of the wonders of history that a people, the 
 most practical in Europe, should have adhered so 
 long to alphabetic modes of representing sounds, 
 so impracticable that they are satisfactory not even 
 to a nation, accustomed all its life to written char- 
 acters like those of the Japanese, whom some sup- 
 posed to be making only a first appearance on the 
 stage of civilization. Logically, one would be led 
 to think that the very genius which, without impair- 
 ing, but contrariwise improving the expressiveness 
 of our language, has rid it of so much that was 
 superfluous in etymology and syntax, would have 
 had some influence also on its orthography. But 
 while the foreigner can point to such anomalies 
 as he perceives in though, through, bough, cough, 
 rough, and lough, is it not true that we might use 
 hieratics and communicate our thoughts well-nigh as 
 intelligibly? 
 
 But, perhaps, the strangest anomaly in connection 
 with the whole, is the fact that Anglo-Saxon enter- 
 prise, so chary of a waste of time in other branches 
 of activity, should not have made some earnest ef- 
 fort to prevent the superfluous labor that a defect, 
 in language, such as this, must necessarily entail 
 upon the children native to a country, not to speak, 
 at all, of foreigners. While the German and, if he 
 have had schooling, the Italian child of nine can 
 pronounce and spell his language with precision, 
 and is prepared henceforth to use it as a medium 
 through which to acquire that which is more im- 
 portant, very often, as portrayed so graphically 
 in the " Hoosier Schoolmaster," the highest intel- 
 lectual achievement of the youth of seventeen in 
 America, not only on our Western prairies but in 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 233 
 
 a thousand places nearer to New York, is, figura- 
 tively if not literally, to " spell down " all the 
 neighborhood. While it is claimed that every citi- 
 zen of Prussia knows enough, at least, to read and 
 write, it is a fact that large proportions of the arti- 
 zans of England, and that nearly twenty per cent, 
 of our own people can do neither. In view of facts 
 like these, the questions come, first: Is it wise? and 
 second: Is it right? Is it wise to let our children 
 pass through youth in ignorance of subjects of far 
 more importance, just because so much time must 
 be given to the spelling book? Or is it right that 
 fetters of irregular orthography — for nothing else 
 than these have caused it, as all know who, only 
 once, have heard the illiterate try to read — that 
 these should bind and keep so much of truth away 
 from souls whose time, forsooth, is too limited to 
 allow them to learn by rote all of the lexicon ! And 
 even tho good spelling may afford a sphere of 
 triumph for some of our country cousins, when one 
 regards the many humbler people unable to attain 
 their eminence, what must he infer with reference 
 to a state of things that renders triumphs such as 
 theirs a possibility? To say no more, it certainly 
 is not desirable, not sensible, nor, in supreme de- 
 gree, republican. The incongruity is palpable, — " a 
 great democracy " ; its destiny declared to be the 
 " elevation of the masses," and the furthering of 
 the " world's enlightenment "—and yet the vari- 
 ous factors of its written language so exclusive in 
 their maintenance of individual dignity that neither 
 foreigner nor native can be absolutely certain of 
 acquaintance with a single syllable till introduced 
 to it by name ! 
 
234 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 Of course, we all know how this came ahout. 
 And, seriously, it will be found to be connected in 
 part subtly but yet certainly, with conditions of so- 
 ciety which we Americans are fond of thinking that 
 it is the " mission " of our country to improve. 
 Tho owing somewhat to the carelessness and igno- 
 rance of the early English printers, who were 
 largely foreigners, and somewhat to the pedantry 
 of men of letters who, in the age that followed the 
 revival of the study of the classic languages, de- 
 sired their spelling to reveal how much they knew 
 of these — this often, too, as in the case of rhyme 
 and isle, with utter disregard, or at least with no 
 appropriate investigation, of the question whether 
 the words that they thought fit to change had been 
 derived from the Greek or Latin ones 'that they 
 were spelled to resemble — ^nevertheless these are 
 not all, perhaps not even the chief causes, of the dis- 
 crepancies in our orthography. Whatever after- 
 wards developed them, they first appeared in times 
 when Norman-French was spoken at the English 
 court, and old English mainly by the masses. Of 
 course, to accommodate themselves to such condi- 
 tions, authors wishing to address both classes of 
 the people, were constrained to spell French words 
 like Frenchmen, and English words like English 
 people. The literary men woiild do the former, to 
 indicate their acquaintance with good society; and 
 the latter to meet the wants of the populace. The 
 result was an incongruity in sounds of similar let- 
 ters and of combinations of them very much the 
 same as that prevailing now, an incongruity, how- 
 ever, that has increased with each succeeding cen- 
 tury. The alterations made in modes of spelling 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 235 
 
 and pronouncing certain common words of French, 
 as well as of native origin, and the introduction, 
 and with scarcely an attempt to naturalize them, of 
 all sorts of terms from other foreign sources, have 
 produced a language which appears to have only 
 one principle of spelling upon which our scholars 
 are willing to agree, — the uselessness of trying to 
 determine any definite rules for our orthography, 
 in accordance with which its irregularities may now 
 be lessened, or, in future, be avoided. 
 
 Noah Webster 's efforts to correct this error have 
 been partially successful in America. Not so in 
 England. Indeed, it may be doubted whether any 
 mere scholar can be successful there. No matter 
 how exhaustless be one's store of dictionary ammu- 
 nition, or what array of learned names he may sum- 
 mon to his help, the " ordinary Englishman," in- 
 trenched in what he terms the " habits of " his 
 " good society," a citadel which we Americans by 
 no means can convince him that we have ability to 
 penetrate, will smile serenely, all unconscious of 
 what we might suppose would inflict some mental 
 discomfiture, if not secure a mental victory. Still 
 more than other ordinary men, the Englishman of 
 this denomination seems insensible to anything that 
 has a merely mental aim. What, forsooth, can be 
 " of matter," unless it comes from matter, or ap- 
 peals to it! When forms have set a fashion, why 
 should he be expected to exercise his mind and think 
 before he follows it? Indeed, so far as concerns 
 himself, the less it seems conformed to thought, and 
 thus suggests to him the need of his own thinking, — 
 why, the better! This sufficiently explains why, of 
 spellings of an English word, the one that seems 
 
236 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 least sensible is usually the most popular. How few 
 of us will not write Nellie rather than the old form 
 Nelly! Perhaps, too, we prefer honour, hy-and-hye 
 and plough, which last good writers, long ago as in 
 the time of Spenser, knew enough to spell with a w. 
 And so with scores of words that will be mentioned 
 by-and-by. The very verdant traveler, on reaching 
 home, forgets all things that he has seen except 
 what seemed ridiculous. It is the same with ex- 
 plorations in orthography. What schoolboy hav- 
 ing learned to spell phthisic, can keep from being 
 tempted to bring it into some composition of his 
 own? Yet Milton dropt each h and p. Or what 
 American, aspiring after literary culture, and who 
 has traveled in Great Britain, can refrain from indi- 
 cating this through echoing everywhere the extreme 
 French-English sounds, in words like mercy, purple, 
 jolly? Indeed, it is a question whether some one 
 when he reads this article, and has his attention 
 pointed, for the first time, toward these words, will 
 not resolve henceforward, nevermore to be so un- 
 affected as to give them their familiar, regular, but 
 yet American pronunciations — such is the force of 
 custom when divorced from common sense! If any 
 truths can seem self-evident, this certainly is one 
 of them, — that, in the present state of our orthog- 
 raphy, whenever, through a change in either one 
 or the other, the spelling and pronunciation of a 
 word are made to coincide, this change is an im- 
 provement. As such, when once it is adopted al- 
 most universally in all the countries where a tongue 
 is spoken, it ought to be accepted also by our liter- 
 ary men who care to have our language perfect. 
 But if some door ajar have caused one's ears to 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 237 
 
 lieed a different sound that comes from English 
 " good society," and he be more solicitous to let 
 men know that he has heard it than to keep his fel- 
 lows true to real improvements that have been ef- 
 fected, then in what is he much better than a liter- 
 ary snob? This question may appear impertinent. 
 But it is not. It is pertinent. 
 
 What else is it except the "spirit of the snob" 
 that is to blame for that which Noah Webster justly 
 terms " disreputable to the literary character of 
 the nation, — the history of English orthography? " 
 By "good society" that English people, very nat- 
 urally and very appropriately, too, for people in 
 their circumstances feel called upon to imitate, is 
 meant, primarily, the aristocracy. And members 
 of this class with their affinities, in times gone by, 
 for foreigners and foreign phraseology, and with 
 their present lazy slight of consonants, as in their 
 " comin' " and " heah," and their " thorough in- 
 aptitude for ideas ' ' — to quote from Matthew Arnold 
 — are hardly sources in which one should seek for 
 the pure ' ' well of English undefiled. ' ' Accordingly, 
 with more abuses which, with reason and without, 
 we attribute to the mother country, not the least, 
 perhaps is the influence which her social forms 
 have had upon the language that we write : and with 
 other blessings with which we may imagine that the 
 " Great Republic " shall enrich posterity, it may 
 be that, among the greatest, is to be a language — 
 through the influence of those who only can con- 
 trol it rightly, — men of genuine scholarship — ren- 
 dered as simple in orthography as now it is in 
 etymology and syntax, and as satisfactory to the 
 foreign student striving to pronounce our literature, 
 
238 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 as now it seems for the clear communication of ideas 
 in commerce. 
 
 Of course, this sounds chimerical. Despite all 
 arguments in favor of a regular orthography put 
 forth by some of our profoundest scholars, the fact 
 confronts us that, as yet, the men who, in apparent 
 confirmation of a homeopathic principle can influ- 
 ence popular thought the most — the superficial men 
 of letters; all the crowds who fail to realize the 
 worth of literature, but yet have sense enough to 
 trade with it because their neighbors treasure it; 
 the publishers and proof-readers to whom a change, 
 however slight, might prove an inconvenience — are 
 arrayed against the scheme. They tell us with an 
 air of mystery that well bespeaks the lack of clarity 
 in their conceptions, that ours, and every language, 
 has a history; that much of what is vigorous, and 
 most of what is picturesque — those qualities that 
 give a word or phrase its literary value — depend 
 upon the earlier if not the primitive sounds of 
 these words, and upon their derivations. And when 
 they have stated this they think that they have 
 proved that English spelling and pronunciation 
 should remain unchanged ; for, otherwise, they seem 
 to ask, how can the earlier sounds be kept the same, 
 or the derivations still continue within reach of easy 
 recognition? The question might be difficult to an- 
 swer, were it forced as logically as they seem to 
 think it, from their premises, which certaiuly con- 
 tain much truth. 
 
 But what now if, as anyone who chooses to in- 
 vestigate the subject may discover, the spellings 
 and pronunciations which we use at present in the 
 English language, are not such as represent, most 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 239 
 
 accurately, ttie earlier or primitive words for which 
 they stand I More than this : what if every change 
 that may be needed in our language of to-day, to 
 render its orthography all that it should be, be no 
 other than would best restore the primitive spell- 
 ings and pronunciations? For instance, would it 
 mar the literary excellence of English, to let people 
 recognize through the letters that we use in them 
 that words like numb, some, ghostly, rhyme, dough, 
 guise, weigh, neighbor, doubt, mourn, guarantee, 
 haunt, plea, foreign and rhodium, represent the 
 Saxon numen, sum, gastlic, rime, doh, gise, waey, 
 nehbor, the Dutch nabuur, the French douter, morne, 
 garant, hanter, the Norman pie, foren, the Latin 
 foris, and the Greek rodiosf 
 
 Unnumbered instances like these might be ad- 
 duced. At present, it suffices if we recognize that 
 alterations do not always harm a language: they 
 may benefit it. And, moreover, as a fact, some al- 
 terations will be introduced in any circumstances. 
 Scarcely a book of English poetry that is printed 
 at the present day, will not reveal upon the same 
 page, words like tho', thro' and biass'd, each, in 
 turn, as will be seen, preparing the way, if ever 
 the apostrophe be dropt, for increasing the iden- 
 tical anomalies that now they are thus written to 
 avoid. Some years ago, men left off final k from 
 words like music, and dropt u from words like color. 
 Why? — was it because they did not think? The 
 German word is musih, and the French couleur. 
 and Tc and u, if they had been retained instead of 
 c and 0, would have spelled the words correctly, and 
 with letters not so often used for other sounds. 
 Did the English writer know precisely why — as no 
 
240 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 one here denies — the c and o could be admissible in 
 cases such as these? — or, was he actuated merely 
 by his whims or his stupidity? To save our lan- 
 guage from effects like this, it seems important to 
 recognize that in any circumstances, alterations do 
 take place, and if there be no rules, acknowledged 
 rules, to regulate these alterations, so that words, 
 when changed, shall coincide with certain ortho- 
 graphic principles that underlie the language as a 
 whole, then many an alteration will merely serve 
 to increase the previous irregularity. Hence the 
 importance of trying to prevent the wrong kind of 
 alterations in the future. But if while mainly aimed 
 for this, a man could find some way of lessening, 
 through precisely similar means, many of the ir- 
 regularities existing at the present, would not his 
 effort to do so be worth while ? — all this not consider- 
 ing the dawn of that millennium for literature that 
 would ensue, in the opinion of some of our afflicted 
 dilettanti, if, through such means, our Wards and 
 Nasbys might finally and forever, be consigned to 
 that perdition which, through the profanity of their 
 treatment of our present spelling, they have so 
 justly merited. But tho the styles of spelling of 
 such writers as these shall " cease to be," " they 
 have their day." And by the light of that day we 
 may read one indication of the times. A carica- 
 ture, when popular, is a conclusive proof that what 
 is caricatured, is popularly thought to be ridiculous. 
 When this is something to which all have been ac- 
 customed all their lives, it indicates the skepticism 
 that may lead to reformation. Be it so ! For are 
 there not good reasons that before this never have 
 existed, why irregularities in our orthography 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 241 
 
 should be corrected — reasons pertinent especially 
 to our own land and age? In our own land regularity 
 seems needed to prevent discrepancies in dialect 
 that, even now, appear in certain quarters, and that, 
 if they be increased, may result in fostering feelings 
 that are sectional, and therefore prejudicial to a 
 patriotic interest in national unity. " I believe," 
 says Mr. Marsh, in his Lectures on the English 
 Language, that "the art of printing, and especially 
 the periodical press, together with the general dif- 
 fusion of education, which the press alone has made 
 possible, is the most efficient instrumentality in pro- 
 ducing uniformity of language and extirpating dis- 
 tinctions of dialect. The ancient Greeks, occupying 
 the same localities, much more nearly allied in 
 blood, more closely connected politically, possess- 
 ing greater facilities and motives for personal 
 intercommunication, often gathering from their 
 remotest colonies at the great metropolitan festi- 
 vals of Athens, of Corinth, and other Hellenic 
 cities, and, above all, possest of a common literature, 
 whose choicest dainties were the daily bread of 
 every Greek intellect, nevertheless, not only spoke 
 but wrote in dialects distinguished by probably dif- 
 ferences of articulation, inflection, syntax, and vo- 
 cabulary. The modern Greeks, on the other hand, 
 both speak and write, not, indeed, with entire uni- 
 formity, but, saving some limited, tho remarkable 
 local exceptions, yet with a general similarity of 
 dialect that is very seldom found in languages 
 whose territorial range is so great. Now, the in- 
 fluence which has been most active in producing 
 this remarkable uniformity is the circulation of 
 printed books and journals employing the same vo- 
 
242 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 cabulary, and following the same orthography and 
 the same syntax. Like effects have resulted from 
 the same cause in Germany. ' ' But how is it in Eng- 
 land? How is it in America? Do all who speak 
 the English tongue pronounce the same words simi- 
 larly? Can they do it, with an orthography that, 
 in so many cases, utterly misrepresents the true 
 pronunciations? Evidently not. We can perpetu- 
 ate throughout our land the sounds of English, as 
 we speak it in New York, or as the cultivated classes 
 speak it in Great Britain, in no other method so 
 effectual as by making our spelling regular. 
 
 Again, does not our age, and the position of our 
 language in it, suggest additional reasons for at- 
 tempting to procure this regularity? Are Japanese 
 diplomats the only men who dream of a universal 
 language? Are we not all looking for it? Are we 
 not aware, besides, that English, as it is, is almost 
 this, already, for the world of commerce? And if 
 so, but a little waiving of our prejudices — they are 
 nothing else; a little use of common sense — for 
 it requires no more; and who can calculate what 
 spheres of influence may yet be opened to the 
 sway of Anglo-Saxon thought, religious, govern- 
 mental, social ! No one, certainly, who has watched 
 with care the linguistic indications of the times, will 
 consider such a question prompted merely by an 
 empty hope of one who is, himself, a member of the 
 ' ' coming race. " It is only lately that attention has 
 been drawn extensively to this subject through the 
 representations of a foreigner, M. Alphonse de 
 CondoUe, in his " Histoire des Sciences." He cal- 
 culates that, at the end of one more century, the 
 number of the people speaking English, in the 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 243 
 
 British Islands, Australia, and America, will reach 
 860,000,000, while those speaking German will be 
 only 124,000,000, and those speaking French only 
 69,000,000. Moreover, even this calculation, which 
 is based on the rate of increase in the population 
 of the different nations, is not all that indicates, as 
 he asserts, how rapidly the English language is be- 
 coming universal. In Switzerland, his native land, 
 in families where both are understood, the French 
 drives out the German; not more effectively, how- 
 ever, than the English, similarly circumstanced, 
 drives out the French. In England and America, 
 the French and German families are found to drop 
 their native tongue. But in France and Germany 
 the English families transmit their language 
 through successive generations. Accordingly, he 
 draws the inference that English will supplant 
 these languages more rapidly than his statistics, 
 based upon the increase of population only, would 
 imply. 
 
 So much to prove that our surmisal of the sway 
 of Anglo-Saxon thoughts, as embodied in our Eng- 
 glish literature, is more than a delusion founded on 
 partiality or prejudice. A foreigner might say that 
 these thoughts would not benefit the world so 
 greatly. We admit it, from his viewpoint. This, 
 however, is not ours. At present we are thinking 
 of the benefits of such a consummation to ourselves, 
 to all who think and write in English ; of the excel- 
 lence to which the prospect of an audience including 
 half the world perhaps, might inspire the thinker. 
 Would it not be wise to weigh well all our opportu- 
 nities ; and, in view of them, to count the cost if we 
 should lose them through too much conservatism? 
 
244 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 " Pure and simple conservatism," as remarks Pro- 
 fessor Whitney, " wMcli by no means founds itself 
 upon useful principles, liistorical or other, but only 
 in certain cases hides itself behind them." " If we 
 expect and wish that our tongue become one day 
 a world's language, understood and employed on 
 every continent and in every clime, then it is our 
 bounden duty to help prepare the way for taking 
 off its neck this heavy millstone." If, as is main- 
 tained, without impairing in the least its literary 
 beauty or its historical consistency, but, on the con- 
 trary, with only trifling changes, our language can 
 be made to embody all the orthographic complete- 
 ness possible to any living tongue, should not an 
 attempt at least be made in this direction? Should 
 we not endeavor to avoid that danger apprehended 
 by M. Alphonse de CondoUe, and which well-nigh 
 dissipates all hope of any possible good that calcu- 
 lations such as his might lead us to anticipate, — the 
 danger that when English shall become the uni- 
 versal language, it may divide in different parts of 
 the globe, into different languages related to one an- 
 other, as the Italian, Portuguese, and Spanish? 
 Should our indifference allow a nation like the Jap- 
 anese, while searching for a medium of commerce, 
 even a chance of rejecting English ; or, if not doing 
 this entirely, of " finishing up " its mission, as it 
 has proposed to do, through using new phonetic 
 characters that might be pliant implements to serve 
 the purposes of trade, but certainly could not fulfil 
 the purposes of intellects that might make use of all 
 the instrumental agencies of thought that load the 
 words of Tennyson and Shakespeare? 
 
 Has the time not come for an attempt — one more 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 245 
 
 on different principles than those that have been 
 advocated hitherto — to rid our spelling book of its 
 perplexities I It may have come, or it may not ; but, 
 either way, it will not harm the English world to be 
 shown in how far fundamental principles of the 
 language have been violated in the case of almost 
 every irregularity; and hence how feasible and 
 philosophical a plan might be adopted for remov- 
 ing it. 
 
 Before proceeding with the main subject thus in- 
 dicated, it seems well to notice, first, that, in any 
 such plan, the sounds of the letters used should con- 
 tinue to be those that are given them in the English 
 language, and not those that are given them, say, 
 in French or German. To say nothing of the con- 
 sonants, there is hardly a vowel or a diphthong in 
 either of these languages that has exactly the same 
 sound as in our own; and to attempt to spell our 
 words with letters sounded as are theirs would in- 
 troduce confusion almost hopeless. Second, it should 
 be noticed that strictly phonetic spelling is by no 
 means necessary. What is needed is merely regu- 
 larity of spelling. This fact may be rendered clear 
 by a few examples. It has become customary for 
 English people to think that the long sounds of the 
 short vowels heard in mad, met, pin, and not are 
 those heard respectively in made, mete, pine and 
 note; yet, phonetically considered, the long sound 
 of e in met is the sound in mate; of i in pin is the 
 sound in mete; and of o in not is the sound in father; 
 while the long sound in pine could be better repre- 
 sented by ai. Similarly, we have become accus- 
 tomed to sound ch as in church, th as in thin and 
 wh as in what; but, phonetically considered, we 
 
246 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 should represent ch and th by new characters and 
 wh by hw. It is easy to perceive that changes in 
 spelling that would make every sound of this kind 
 phonetically consistent might entirely disguise our 
 present words, and make it well-nigh impossible to 
 recognize some of them. This fact might necessi- 
 tate everyone's learning to read again, and render 
 all our present books obsolete, to say nothing of its 
 interfering with having our words reveal to any ex- 
 cept scholars either their derivation or their origi- 
 nal significance. But, besides this, such changes, 
 tho theoretically justified by supposed phonetic re- 
 quirements, would not be justified by practical re- 
 quirements. The desired results could be attained 
 without any such disadvantages. Strictly phonetic 
 spelling of itself would not lessen the difficulties of 
 children or of foreigners when trying to learn our 
 language. In any circumstances, the sound of each 
 letter, and of each combination of letters has to be 
 taught; and it is as easy for a child to learn the 
 method of pronouncing the wJi in which, as it would 
 be to learn the sam.e sound if it were spelled hw. 
 In fact, one has to explain to most young people, 
 why hw forms the better phonetic representation. 
 
 Another thing, perhaps, to remove prejudice, 
 should be stated here, tho the grounds for the state- 
 ment can be considered only hereafter. It is this 
 — that, notwithstanding the many different sounds 
 possible to English, to spell it regularly, would not 
 necessitate, as many suppose, the introduction into 
 the text of a number of entirely unfamiliar char- 
 acters. There are only three sounds — those in far, 
 son or sun, and the as distinguished from those in 
 fat, fog and thin — ^which our present characters 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 247 
 
 could not adequately represent ; and for these three 
 sounds we could use characters with which we are 
 already familiar. For the sound in far and father 
 we could use the antique form — used without itali- 
 cizing it — of CI/, cp. For the sound in sun and son 
 we could use, in connection with the capital U, a 
 new small u sometimes found in fancy type, and 
 resembling both u and o, while at the same time, 
 we could borrow from fancy type a new capital U 
 to use in connection with the present small u for 
 the sound in put, and, if long, in butcher; and for 
 the sound in the as distinguished from that in thin, 
 we could use a slightly altered fh. 
 
 Let it be understood, then, that, at present, our 
 aim is merely to find some method through which 
 similar letters always shall be representative of 
 similar sounds. In endeavoring to discover this 
 method, it is apparent that our first care must de- 
 termine what particular sounds of letters and their 
 combinations are most uniform; i.e., are regular: 
 a gain that in itself will be important, wholly aside 
 from any influence that the result may be supposed 
 to have upon our modes of making alterations. 
 Our work, in truth, must be as conservative as it 
 is radical, necessitating scrupulous analysis before 
 we think of synthesis. Our labor must begin by 
 being scientific; and, that it may be so, as is finely 
 said with reference to another subject, by Prof. 
 Miiller, " Let us take the old saying. Divide et 
 impera, and translate it somewhat freely by 
 ' Classify and conquer,' and I believe we shall then 
 lay hold of the old thread of Ariadne which has 
 led the students of many a science through darker 
 labyrinths." This labyrinth of English spelling, 
 
248 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 as I think, can be penetrated and its intricacies 
 made plain througli a similar method; througli an 
 endeavor, first, to divide and classify, and under 
 as few heads as possible, the different sounds of 
 English letters in their different combinations, 
 which work, that it may be complete, must be done 
 with words as pronounced and spelled not only in 
 our own time but at former periods; second, to ac- 
 cept the sounds that occur most frequently in con- 
 nection with the letters, single or combined, as 
 indicative of general rules; third, to group the ex- 
 ceptional sounds; fourth, to make the exceptional 
 sounds conform to the rules through changes either 
 in the spelling of words, or, possibly in a very few 
 cases, in their pronunciation; and, fifth, to make 
 these changes always according to authority, i.e., 
 as one is warranted to do, either from the fact that 
 in former times or foreign countries the same word 
 or syllable that it is proposed to change has been 
 spelled or pronounced in accordance with the 
 change; or that other words, analogous in charac- 
 ter or in derivation are, or have been, so spelled or 
 pronounced. 
 
 Those whose attention has never been directed to 
 the subject will hear, perhaps, with some surprise, 
 that under this fifth head may be included all ex- 
 cept a very few of the changes that our language 
 needs. For instance, with reference to many com- 
 mon words of Saxon origin, there is evidence that, 
 at certain periods, cultivated people have pro- 
 nounced them differently from the illiterate, and 
 have given them an orthography to represent this 
 difference. But the influence of the masses has 
 been too decided to be counteracted thus; and 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 249 
 
 everybody has accepted once more the more gen- 
 eral pronunciations. Nevertheless, the altered 
 spellings still remain. Our question now is, ought 
 we not to change these too, e.g., to spell breast, 
 heart, friend, fiend, lamb, debt, reign, and prove, 
 as, well-nigh universally, they once were written: 
 brest, hart, frend, feend, lam, det, raine, and 
 proove — the last two words, perhaps without the 
 final ef Again, with reference to words of foreign 
 origin or use, we know that certain English letters 
 represent, almost without exception, certain for- 
 eign ones. But why not altogether without excep- 
 tion? If we can write risk, shock, gazetteer, and 
 benefit where the French write risque, choquer, 
 gazetier, and bienfait, why may we not make simi- 
 lar changes in words corresponding to the French 
 burlesque, chaise, financier, and contrefait? Such 
 thoughts suggest a mode of reformation, at the 
 worst, conservative. Its results would merely bring 
 the words to which it were applied within the pale 
 of principles that underlie the language as a whole. 
 Nor need the changes cause much inconvenience. 
 The number of the forms of syllables in which the 
 alterations would be needed is not large; and the 
 reader would become familiar with them soon, be- 
 cause they all are forms in very common use. 
 
 It is my intention in what is to follow to discover 
 certain rules resulting from an application of the 
 processes just indicated; and after that, to suggest 
 some authorized mode of causing each word that 
 violates these rules to conform to them. And if my 
 task accomplish no more than to prove the feasi- 
 bility of regular orthography, this, in itself will be 
 an end that never yet appears to have been at- 
 
250 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 tained; and, being such, will more than half-way- 
 bridge the gulf that separates our present modes of 
 spelling from a mode that would be worthy of the 
 language that we speak. 
 
 The thoughts that have been presented thus far 
 in this essay, together with its concluding para- 
 graph on page 261, are reprinted, as stated at its 
 opening, from a paper written many years ago. 
 This paper was followed by five others undertaking 
 to classify the words in our language that are 
 spelled irregularly; and, through examining the 
 sources or affinities of these words in English, 
 Saxon, German, Dutch, French, Spanish, Italian, 
 Latin or Greek, to show how far regular spellings 
 of them could be authorized by former native, or 
 by foreign spellings of the same or of analogous 
 words. Those papers are still accessible, but the 
 details with which they are filled would be out of 
 place in this volume. Not so, however, with the 
 general conclusions then reached. At present, in- 
 deed, these seem especially timely, in view of their 
 bearings upon that reform in our orthography, so 
 ably organized, about ten years ago, and so effi- 
 ciently administered by the Simplified Spelling 
 Board. I doubt whether that Board can ever at- 
 tain its purpose until the majority of English-speak- 
 ing people come to recognize a fact, which few now 
 seem to believe, namely, that it is possible to spell 
 the English language with unvarying regularity, 
 and in such a way that an intelligent foreigner can 
 learn to pronounce it in an hour, and a child in a 
 few days, while, at the same time, the new spellings 
 will not do violence to the history of the language, 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 251 
 
 nor render it impossible or even difficult to under- 
 stand the older spellings in our present books. 
 
 Before restating the conclusions of the papers 
 that, for these reasons, are now recalled, it may, 
 perhaps, be well to say that, when they were writ- 
 ten, there was no desire — ^nor is there any at pres- 
 ent — to dogmatize about some single method 
 through which the ends indicated can be accom- 
 plished. The only purpose was, through practical 
 illustrations, to demonstrate the feasibility of, at 
 least, some method. 
 
 To begin with the consonants, the following can 
 be taken as their regular sounds when two or more 
 of them are not combined : 
 
 b as in bib k as in king s as in sin 
 
 c as in cat I as in let t as in tin 
 
 d as in did m as in mat v as in van 
 
 f as in fan n as in nag w as in win 
 
 g as in get p as in pot x as in extra 
 
 Ji as in hat q as in quit or qwit y as in yet 
 
 j as in jig r as in rat z as in zed 
 
 To make the language, in accordance with these 
 principles, absolutely regular would necessitate 
 spelling words like cipher, cigar, cedar with an s; 
 but we are told that the original Arabic word for 
 the first was sifr; the Dutch write for the second, 
 sigaar; and the Germans for the third, zeder. This 
 latter word, as well as the Dutch zaad and zeven 
 for our seed and seven will suggest authority for 
 changing, as must be done in many cases, s to z. 
 As for changing g to j, one can compare with our 
 jay, jealous and joy the French geai, and the Ital- 
 
252 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 ian geloso and gioja. If we wish to drop tlie u 
 after g or q, we can recall tlie French garde for 
 our guard, as well as cotter for our quoit. In- 
 deed, almost all necessary dropping of silent con- 
 sonants can be authorized in these ways. For 
 lamh, dumb, debt, doubt, foreign, the Germans 
 now use lamm, durum, etc.; and the old English 
 used det, dout, and foren. The first syllable of our 
 word scent in French, Italian, and Latin, is sent. 
 For our hour and honor, the Anglo-Saxon used ure 
 and onur, and the Italians now use ora and onore. 
 Our whose and whole we can trace to the old Eng- 
 lish and Saxon hwa, hole and heil, to say nothing 
 of the Latin hos and the Greek holos. Even knot 
 and know are related to the Latin nodus and nosco. 
 One could fill several paragraphs with like exam- 
 ples. 
 
 Let us turn to the combined consonant-sounds. 
 Of these several, like bl, cl, -fl, gl, hi, pi, br, cr, dr, 
 fr, gr, pr, rn, rm, si, mp, mpt, dg, sm, zm, are abso- 
 lutely phonetic, and need not be considered. The 
 following, however, have sounds more or less ar- 
 bitrary : 
 
 ch as in church The difference be- 
 
 th as in thin tween hanger and anger 
 
 "fli as in than is that the latter has a 
 
 sh as in sham double ^-sound, rightly 
 
 zh like z in azure spelled as in angger. 
 
 wh as in which ok as in pack is a form of 
 
 ng as in hang double k. 
 
 To use these pronunciations rigidly would neces- 
 sitate dropping the h in character; but the first syl- 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 253 
 
 lable of exactly the same word in French, Italian and 
 Spanish, is car. So we should write sh in cham- 
 paign; but why not? We write shock and shop in 
 words where the French use ch. As for introduc- 
 ing an h into a few words like azure, there are 
 scores of examples in English where h has been 
 both added and taken away, as in tight, list, ring, 
 lid from the Anglo-Saxon tyd, tyged, hlysta/n, hring, 
 Mid. 
 
 Now for the vowel-sounds. Eecalling what on 
 page 247 was said of the use of Ct', a, and U, u, here 
 are the vowels when short, as is much the most fre- 
 quently the case : 
 
 a OS in mat i as in pin u as in put 
 
 a as in far as In not u as in sun 
 
 e as in met a/nd in son 
 
 To carry out these principles we should be obliged 
 to drop many silent letters; but for this we have 
 ample authority in such former English or Saxon 
 spellings as agen, brest, hed, heven, helth, herd, He, 
 hart, foren, beleve, fremd, yung, yu, wunder, gest, 
 gise, etc., etc., as well as in such cases as the French 
 grever, and the Italian villano and fontana, for 
 grieve, villain, and fountain. These facts are too 
 well known to need further illustration. 
 
 Let us pass on to combined vowel-sounds. 
 
 (1) 00 has the sound in gloom, boor, loot. 
 
 The sound of oo in flood, evidently should be rep- 
 resented by flud. In fact, it was formerly spelled 
 with a u. The exceptional sounds in look, book, 
 could, etc., might suggest their present appear- 
 ance, and yet be represented perfectly, according 
 
254 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 to the principle explained on page 255, by luok, 
 cuod, or, possibly, luuk, cuud. 
 
 (2) All vowels before u, also i and o together, and 
 i before a, form what are technically termed proper 
 diphthongs; i.e., diphthongs in which both vowels 
 are sounded, e.g.: 
 
 au (or aw) as in laud, io as in minion 
 law 
 
 In certain words a 
 dieresis could show 
 that the single vowel 
 represented the diph- 
 thong, e.g., all 
 
 eu (or ew) as in feud, oi (or oy) as in void, boy 
 mew 
 
 In certain words a 
 dieresis could show 
 that the single vowel 
 represented this diph- 
 thong, e.g., music 
 
 iu as in genius* ia as in Columbia 
 
 ou (or ow) as in out, vow 
 
 To carry out this principle would, of course, neces- 
 sitate spelling bought like aught, and mould (see 
 page 256) either molds or moald; and mow, moe. 
 But ample authority could be found for such 
 changes. Perhaps, the best method of disposing 
 of io and ia would be to treat the i as the conso- 
 nant y, and change and pronounce it accordingly, 
 thus: minyon, Columbya, misyon, constitusyon. 
 This would confine the rule (2) above to u and to 
 before i. Besides this, it would form a better 
 
 * See the new form for this suggested on page 259. 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 255 
 
 etymological development tlian shun for our pres- 
 ent ending in sion. The use, at the end of root- 
 words and their derivatives of y and w respectively 
 for the vowels i and u, as in boy, and fully and 
 cow, is easy to explain and apply. Sometimes, too, 
 as in annoyance (for annoiance) and power (for 
 pouer) it is a help in determining the pronuncia- 
 tion. For such reasons, if it do not seem best to 
 make changes, rules like the following would cover 
 all cases. Z is a consonant at the beginning, and a 
 vowel at the end of a syllable, or in a syllable ia 
 which it is the only representative of a vowel, as 
 in yet, yon, ability, synonym. TF is a consonant ex- 
 cept when immediately following a vowel with 
 which (representing u) it can form diphthongs, as 
 in law, mew and cow. 
 
 (3) In all cases except when forming the proper 
 diphthongs just mentioned a vowel immediately 
 preceding another vowel is long, as in maid, aorist, 
 meat, meet, seise, peon, liar, lie, lion, load, toe, 
 truant, sue, suit. 
 
 As a rule, in these cases, the second vowel is sup- 
 prest, as in maid, meet, died, load, toe, sue, suit. 
 Where, in exceptional cases, it is sounded, this fact 
 might be indicated by the dieresis with which we 
 are already familiar, thus aorist, peon, lion, suet. 
 But a better method would be to designate all long 
 vowels, that are long irrespective of letters fol- 
 lowing them, thus: aorist, peony, lion, suet, amia- 
 bility, coincide. 
 
 It is important to observe how well-nigh univer- 
 sally applicable is the principle stated in rule 3. 
 Because of failure to notice the rule, some very 
 scholarly spelling reformers have given sanction 
 
256 EDUCATION, ART. AND CIVICS 
 
 to accepting the form of ie for the sound of long e, 
 as in field. The objections to tMs form are, first, 
 that it violates the rule just stated; second, that it 
 leaves long *, now needed especially in the par- 
 ticiples of verbs ending in i long, like die, without 
 any form to represent it; and, third, that it intro- 
 duces a new element of confusion into our spelling, 
 because we already have three representatives of 
 long e, as in meat, meet and mete. 
 
 (4) The principle in rule 3 applied to a peculiar 
 form of English spelling leads to the following: 
 In root-words and their derivatives and com- 
 pounds, e-final preceded by another vowel, with or 
 without intervening consonants, is silent; but it 
 lengthens the vowel preceding even when sepa- 
 rated from it by one or more consonants, e.g., mete, 
 meet. This use of final e is so common in our lan- 
 guage, and so easy to master, that there is no need 
 of changing it. If a change were needed, of course 
 the e could be placed before the consonant, as in 
 aerate, meet, died, toed, and sued. If a change be 
 not made the rule necessitates our dropping the 
 final e in words like have, live, serve, favorite; but 
 notice that we have already dropt it in words for- 
 merly spelled hase, hade, blacke, helpe, bosome, and 
 burne. In some words, too, we should have to add 
 an e or change the digraph. But notice that many 
 of these very words were formerly spelled with an 
 e, namely childe, wilde, binde, beholde, bolte, con- 
 trole, worne, onely; and we have added an e for no 
 good reason to words formerly spelled bad (from 
 bid) and wer. 
 
 Just here, in view of the different forms of spell- 
 ing that we have in maid and made, meet, meat, and 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 257 
 
 mete, load and lode, dew and due, perhaps it is im- 
 portant to emphasize the fact that the object of re- 
 formed spelling it to have it in all cases represent 
 the sound, not necessarily to have the sound repre- 
 sent the spelling. It is often an advantage in a lan- 
 guage to have some of the words that sound alike 
 spelled differently; and this not merely for the 
 sake of rendering intelligible in the text its puns, 
 but often, too, its poetry, and the suggestiveness of 
 its prose, to which may be added as well the facts 
 of its etymology. Notice how allied to puns in the 
 principle manifested, and yet not puns, are Shake- 
 spear's words pale and sack, as used in the follow- 
 ing: 
 
 How are we pack'd and bounded in a pale, 
 A little herd of England's timorous deer. 
 
 King Henry VI, First Part, 4 ; 2. 
 
 I'll either make thee stoop and bend the knee, 
 Or sack this country with a mutiny. 
 
 Idem, 5 ; 1. 
 
 For some minds there are thoughts associated with 
 both mete and meat connected with the word of like 
 sound used in the expression "It is not meet to 
 take the children's bread and to cast it to dogs." 
 Such cases are not rare, and frequently it is a con- 
 venience to have the printing reveal just which of 
 two or more words is primarily meant. It is a ques- 
 tion whether such considerations are not sufficient 
 to outweigh the inconvenience of being obliged to 
 study in order to become informed with reference 
 
258 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 to the different spellings. The words to which 
 these apply are really very few, and can be easily 
 learned in a short time. 
 
 (5) Connected with rules 3 and 4 in principle, is 
 a rule that might be made universal; and if so, it 
 would, in most cases, indicate not only spelling, but 
 the right pronunciation. It is this, that a vowel 
 when followed by a single consonant or by two or 
 more that cannot be separated from the pronun- 
 ciation of a following vowel, is long; but when fol- 
 lowed by a double consonant, or by two or more 
 that must be separated in pronunciation, it is short, 
 and is to be accented, e.g., hater, abler, hatter, sur- 
 pass, hamper; fetus, ether, fennel, impress, wed- 
 lock; biting, nitrous, bitter, instill, pilfer; moment, 
 cobra, plotter, bodkin, emboss; musing, butcher, 
 shudder, musket, rebuff. 
 
 Perhaps a better way to attain the result in- 
 tended to be reached by this rule 5, would be to use, 
 as suggested under rule 3, a mark — a, e, i, 5, u — 
 over all long vowels, the quantities of which might 
 otherwise appear doubtful. 
 
 Let us now make a brief summary of what has 
 been said with reference to the vowels. In doing 
 this, it will be well to illustrate the way in which 
 certain of them are influenced by the consonants 
 used with them. The effect is such that some im- 
 agine the vowel itself to be different. But as a 
 fact, it is the same, and needs no different repre- 
 sentation. It woiild be very difficult, in view of the 
 accompanying consonant, to pronounce it — as in 
 uttering what, but, as contrasted with far, burr — 
 in any other way than in a more closed or more 
 open manner. 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 259 
 
 as short in as long in 
 
 0, a, -what, far. father, 
 
 A, a, bat, taank, matter, made, mate, mating, 
 
 aorist, amiable, 
 
 E, e, met, held, den, bet- meat, meet, mete, even, 
 
 ting, ^ peony, 
 
 1, i, pit, pin, pinning, pie, pine, pining, iodine, 
 0, 0, not, on, bottom, boat, toe, voting, coincide, 
 U, u, put, pull, sue, fruit, lute, fluting, 
 
 butcher, 
 U, V, but, bun, sun, burr, buok, weed, cuok, buoy, 
 00, 00, cool, gloom, room, 
 Qu, aw, or a, fraud, law, all, ar, or auU, aur, 
 eu, ew or ii, Europe, few, lise, miisic, or meusic, 
 iu, or yu, genius, etc., 
 ou, ow, out, our, hound, 
 oi (oy) void, boy, 
 io (yo) minion, minyon, missyon, 
 ia (ya) Columbia, Columbya. 
 
 By giving these sounds to the vowels, single and 
 combined, and giving to the consonants the sounds 
 that have been indicated, we should have a system of 
 orthography applicable to both pronunciation and 
 accentuation which, on the whole, would be about as 
 easy to master as that of any language in existence. 
 How little it would change the character of our pres- 
 ent spelling, or interfere with our continuing to un- 
 derstand our present books, may be illustrated by 
 printing, in the forms that it would necessitate, the 
 proposition mentioned at the opening of this article, 
 in which Mr. Mori, " Japanese charge d'affaires 
 near the American Government," made his sugges- 
 
260 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 tion with reference to " simplified English." His 
 words were these : 
 
 "fhe spoken langwaje ov Japann, being inadde- 
 qwate tu the groing necessitiz ov the people ov that 
 empire, and too poor tu be made by a fonettic alfa- 
 bet sufissyently iiseful az a ritten langwaje, the idea 
 prevailz amung menny ov our best educated men 
 and moste profound thinkurs that if we wuod keep 
 pase with the aje we must adopt sum copius ex- 
 pansibul and expanding European langwaje, print 
 our laws and transact all public bizziness in it az 
 soon az possibul.* — My proposisyun iz tu make 
 and plase in our scools and in the hands ov the peo- 
 ple at lorj spelling-buoks, dicsyonariz, grammarz, 
 and uther text-buoks, teaching what may be turmd 
 simplified Inglish." 
 
 The object of printing this passage has been to 
 show the feasibility of having English spelled with 
 absolute regularity. Even without introducing 
 some of the changes — like that, for instance, of the 
 doubled consonants — our orthography might be 
 made sufficiently regular for practical purposes. 
 In some cases, too, a change in pronunciation might 
 be more desirable than in spelling. But these are 
 matters of detail. The object of this paper has been 
 to reveal the character and effects of the general 
 principles involved. 
 
 In conclusion, there is no need of answering the 
 question most naturally suggested here, namely, 
 " Why cannot we adopt these changes? " Every- 
 body who knows anything of human nature is 
 aware that to secure the success of any project 
 aimed for the betterment of existing conditions, 
 
 * The use of English for a similar reason is now, in 1910, eeri- 
 pusly advocated in China. 
 
SIMPLIFIED SPELLING 261 
 
 something more is needed than to prove that it is 
 sensible and feasible. All victories over thought 
 in the world are gained very much like those of a 
 game of chess. Many pawns that interfere, many 
 obstacles of apparent insignificance, like those em- 
 bodying results of the sheerest prejudice or pedan- 
 try, must be removed before access even can be 
 gained to that in the mind which makes any effort 
 really worth while. The writer of this paper, there- 
 fore, has no conception that the suggestions which 
 it has presented will all, or any of them, lead to 
 any immediate practical results. But is it too 
 chimerical to hope that the facts that have been 
 brought out may silence somewhat those erroneous 
 statements made so often that no rules at all exist 
 in accordance with which English orthography has 
 been developed thus far, or may yet be perfected; 
 that these facts may cast some light upon the path- 
 way of the few who wish and work for changes in 
 our spelling but know not, as yet, what course they 
 should pursue that they may change it for the bet- 
 ter; or that, finally, the same facts may induce 
 some younger educators of our nation, writers of 
 sufficient influence and thinkers of sufficient loyalty 
 to a language that they should desire to benefit, to 
 endeavor to begin a gradual, perhaps, but effica- 
 cious method of reform. Such a method need not 
 lead to measures so radical and revolutionary as to 
 discourage expectation. And if not, the only ques- 
 tion ought to be how long,— how long shall agencies 
 that have so little to commend them interfere with a 
 course of action that, to say the least, is rational; 
 and, at the most may issue in results that never yet 
 have been so much as possible to the writers of any 
 other age or nation? 
 
THE MAYFLOWER PILGRIMS AND THEIR 
 
 PRESENT REPRESENTATIVES * 
 
 In all history there have been few events as 
 important as that which we have met, this evening, 
 in order to commemorate, — the landing of the May- 
 flower Pilgrims on the coast of New England in 
 1620. Before the times of the English independents 
 — a few hundred people, whom these Pilgrims rep- 
 resented — there may have been others holding the 
 same opinions that they held, but there had been 
 few willing, to the bitter end, to back their opinions 
 by unflinching devotion; willing, rather than sur- 
 render them to endure persecution and exile, to 
 sacrifice almost everything that a civilized man 
 holds dear, — ease, comfort, property, home, country, 
 and even, if necessary, life itself. It is because of 
 this attitude of mind, on the part of the Pilgrim 
 Fathers, that half the enlightened nations of the 
 world to-day have accepted their opinions, and 
 made them dominant in Church, and State, and so- 
 ciety. 
 
 What were these opinions? What was the one 
 principle underlying them all? It was this, — that 
 human beings ought to be ruled in accordance with 
 the thoughts and wishes of people in general, not 
 of a few allowed to occupy commanding positions 
 
 • Address delivered when Governor of the Society of Mayflower 
 Descendants of the District of Columbia, at their annual banquet, 
 November 21, 1907, and reported in the local newspapers. 
 
TRE MAYFLOWER PILGBIM8 263 
 
 owing to supposed hereditary rigMs, or to the arbi- 
 trary exercise of force. The Pilgrims thought 
 that the wisest conception is usually the result of 
 the widest consultation, and that what is wanted by 
 all can usually be best obtained by asking all what 
 they want. They were very religious in their way. 
 They believed in ' ' divine rights ' ' ; but they did not 
 believe that these rights should be enjoyed solely 
 by a king, bishop, or some other earthly lord. They 
 believed in divine inspiration, but their Divinity 
 seemed sovereign over every man, and the indica- 
 tions of His will best exprest through the free 
 utterances of all. So they said that countries ought 
 to select their own rulers, congregations their own 
 pastors, and communities their own social leaders. 
 For saying and trying to practise this, they were 
 persecuted, driven out of England to Holland, and 
 finally came to America. With what result? To- 
 day, France and America elect presidents. In 
 Great Britain, there was a Cromwell, and there is 
 a king ; but he is a ruler only in name ; the ruler, in 
 fact, being a prime minister, who is an official of 
 an elected parliament. To-day half the churches in 
 England, and all but a single church in our country, 
 and even that, to some extent, are practically ruled 
 as the Pilgrims said they should be. As a matter 
 of form, bishops or other clergy may ordain and 
 install, but where do they put a man over a congre- 
 gation that refuses to elect or accept him? As for 
 a patent of nobility, this is now regarded in parts 
 even of Europe as a label indicative of something 
 that does not necessarily exist. The main sug- 
 gestion of the label to most Americans, I think, 
 is the propriety of our having a sort of interna- 
 
264 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 tional pure food law for the protection of those 
 tempted by false allurements. This might prevent 
 certain of our fathers from being swindled out of 
 their property, and certain of our daughters, 
 abetted by their mothers, from being poisoned in 
 mind and soul, if not, as some of us fear, in body. 
 
 In the opinion of many of the ablest historic 
 writers of the world, it is questionable whether, 
 either in this country or in Europe, the conditions 
 of sentiment and government just indicated would 
 exist to-day had it not been for the settlement in 
 New England of the Pilgrims* — I do not mean of the 
 Puritans, who came later, and were bigots and per- 
 secutors, but of the Pilgrims, who were neither, 
 and never believed in either — had it not been, I say, 
 for the settlement in New England of the Pilgrims, 
 and for the ocean which, by separating them from 
 the old country, gave them an opportunity without 
 interference from abroad of carrying their theories 
 into practise. 
 
 Tho conditions in the world have greatly changed, 
 we must not suppose that there is no longer any 
 
 * The careful historian will always distinguish the American Pil- 
 grims from the American Puritans. The latter were in England 
 Presbyterians or Episcopalians of the evangelistic type. The former 
 were Separatists or Independents. Hume in his History of England, 
 Chapter LVII, says, "The Catholics, pretending to an infallible 
 guide, had justified upon that principle their doctrine and practise 
 of persecution; the Presbyterians, imagining that such clear and 
 certain tenets as they themselves adopted could be rejected only from 
 a criminal and pertinacious obstinacy, had hitherto gratified to the 
 full their bigoted zeal in a like doctrine and practise, the Independ- 
 ents, from the extremity of the same zeal, were led into the milder 
 principles of toleration. ... Of all Christian sects, this was the first 
 which, during its prosperity as well as its adversity, always adopted 
 the principle of toleration " — and the history of Plymouth Colony 
 shows that they continued to practise the same principle in this 
 country. 
 
TEE MAYFLOWER PILGRIMS 265 
 
 necessity for trying to maintain and continue the 
 kind of work that was begun by these people. The 
 plant of civilization, like that of the field, which 
 may be green with leaves in May, yellow with blos- 
 soms in June, and red with berries in July, may 
 not always appear the same; but it always is the 
 same, and needs similar treatment. The pecul- 
 iarity of the mind of the Pilgrim was that it could 
 and did penetrate beneath the surface of life to 
 detect the principles at work below it; and be- 
 lieved that that which is right in practise can re- 
 sult from that only which is right in theory. The 
 same sort of penetration and adherence to prin- 
 ciples is needed to-day. Let me illustrate this from 
 two spheres of activity sufficiently inclusive to be 
 typical of all, — one having to do with our recrea- 
 tions, and the other with our employments. 
 
 "We all believe in recreation, — in a certain amount 
 of play; but what is the true principle underlying 
 a sane, healthful belief in it? What but this, — that 
 a man should exercise enough, and not more than 
 enough, to keep his brain, which is that for which he 
 should live, healthy, vigorous, and clear? But 
 where do you hear this principle proclaimed, either 
 in social or educational circles? Hardly anywhere. 
 Sports, and especially athletics, are treated as ends 
 in themselves. With what result? When one 
 trains the body so that it becomes numb and can- 
 not be bruised, he necessarily trains the brain, too, 
 so that it becomes numb and cannot be used. Over- 
 training, when it takes place in college, ruins schol- 
 arship, and when it takes place either inside or out- 
 side of college, it makes many a man a physical as 
 well as a mental wreck long before he reaches 
 
266 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 middle life. The argument, too, that we can afford 
 occasional results like these because our nation 
 needs future heroes and fighters, is fallacious. In 
 these days of science, when we have our next war, 
 success will come not to the Goliaths, but to the 
 Davids; not to the pugilists, but to the marksmen; 
 not to the sluggers, but to the inventors. I have 
 always felt a great respect for one of my old pupils 
 who was the best gymnast in his class, but refused 
 to go into either the baseball or the football team. 
 He did so on the ground that mentally he could 
 not afford the time and physically could not afford 
 the training. The latter was a more important rea- 
 son than some might suppose. 
 
 Turning from our recreations, let us look at our 
 employments, — at the objects of them, as usually 
 sought in those larger enterprises typical of busi- 
 ness-thought undertaken in order to secure what is 
 termed financial development. We all know, or 
 ought to know, what is the true principle that 
 should underlie these. It is that which, as a fact, 
 too, actuated most of the earlier engineers and 
 promoters of our country, namely, the building of 
 canals, railways, manufactories, and towns, in or- 
 der to increase the convenience, work, wealth, and 
 comfort of the people considered as a whole. I 
 myself was brought up in the busiest hive of enter- 
 prise in the West, and I never in early life heard 
 any project advocated in which these objects were 
 not brought to the front. How often do we hear of 
 them to-day in Wall Street? Their principle there 
 is to promote enterprise in order to secure indi- 
 vidual wealth. One can imagine a farmer on the 
 Western prairies rejoicing, when, after a long 
 
THE MAYFLOWER PILGRIMS 267 
 
 drought, he sees a cloud rising on the distant hori- 
 zon. So all of us, at times, have hailed the advent 
 of business enterprise. But it makes a great dif- 
 ference whether that cloud be filled from on high 
 or from below, — i. e., with dust and debris which it 
 has scooped up from farm and farmhouse, and 
 which it is coming on to augment with other ac- 
 cumulations of the same kind, and then to scatter 
 broadcast, and, through both methods, destroy and 
 bury every vestige of fertility in its pathway. En- 
 terprise actuated merely by a desire to increase the 
 prestige and power of the few through what, unin- 
 fluenced by higher considerations, their greed can 
 violently snatch from the many on a plain below 
 them, is far more likely to prove a curse to us all 
 than a blessing. 
 
 Our forefathers believed, as I have said, in 
 grounding all their practises on right principles. 
 This was their belief because they had the sense to 
 recognize, and the resolution to make real the recog- 
 nition, that thoughts are more important than 
 things, — the mind that works the deed more im- 
 portant than the matter in which the deed is 
 wrought. Accepting the sovereignty of thought 
 and mind, they could not yield allegiance to the 
 words and ways of those who seemed to ignore, 
 where they failed to oppose, everything beyond and 
 above this earth and the merely earthly. They 
 could not be satisfied with loyalty to anything ex- 
 cept the most advanced and elevated of ideals. 
 I like to think of them as they started from Lin- 
 colnshire, gazing wistfully out beyond the prow 
 of the little ship that bore them to Holland, gaz- 
 ing beyond the prow of the Mayflower that bore 
 
268 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 them across tlie Atlantic, gazing beyond the rocks 
 and forests that welcomed them when they reached 
 New England. I like to think of them and of 
 those earliest pioneers who were their children, 
 with their eyes fixt less on the farms that they 
 were planting and the cities that they were plan- 
 ning than on what was beyond and above — the 
 " fields of living green," the " city coming down 
 from God out of heaven " — the ideals after which 
 every worthy result on this earth is always modeled. 
 Such ideals can be ours to-day as truly as they 
 were those of our forefathers in the seventeenth 
 century. What we need is to believe in them and to 
 dare to give them expression. 
 
INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER AS DEVELOPED 
 IN OUR REPUBLIC * 
 
 That revolution, as we call it, whicli, one hundred 
 and twenty years ago, our forefathers succeeded in 
 producing, might better, perhaps, be termed an evo- 
 lution. Ours was not merely like one of those pre- 
 vious movements of the same name in European gov- 
 ernments in which one turn of the wheel of fortune 
 brought one party up to be succeeded by another 
 turn that sent it down again. It was not merely like 
 one of those revolutions of our globe, in which it 
 passes at morning from darkness to light, only to 
 pass at evening from light back to darkness again. 
 It was more like one of those convulsions in nature 
 in which one phase of life permanently disappears 
 to give place to another, — like that which happens 
 when the volcano shakes and throws aside forms 
 existing on the surface of the globe, and pours 
 through and above them the glowing life of that 
 which has always before been kept below. It was 
 a movement placing elements of society — the masses 
 of the people — that formerly had been hidden from 
 sight or attracted little attention, where they might 
 become the chief objects of attention. 
 
 In looking at anything distinctively American — 
 in tracing, for instance, the history among us of 
 
 * Address delivered on July 4, 1896, in Hopewell, N. J., in connec- 
 tion with the dedication of a revolutionary memorial. Reprinted 
 from The Hopewell Herald. 
 
270 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 any political, intellectual, social or religioiTS move- 
 ment — one finds, literally, tlie masses of the people 
 on the surface claiming and receiving the first con- 
 sideration. On the contrary, in most of the nations 
 of the Old World, at the time of our declaration of 
 independence, one would have found certain ruling 
 or privileged classes on the surface claiming and 
 receiving the first consideration. In some countries 
 they received the only consideration. A few years 
 ago in Egypt, when their ruler, the Khedive, de- 
 cided to undertake any public measure, whether to 
 make war or only to construct a railway or canal, 
 that decision, originating with himself or his ad- 
 visers, ended all discussion. Forthwith, gangs of 
 soldiers were ordered into the nearest villages to 
 levy taxes and to draft men for the work. Not in- 
 frequently, without an hour's warning, and at the 
 dictation of some almost irresponsible and domi- 
 neering officer, fathers, husbands and brothers were 
 taken thus to be kept away from their homes 
 throughout their lives. Sir John Bowring, in his 
 autobiography, tells of a scene that he witnessed, 
 several years ago, in Cairo. A man was brought 
 before a tribunal accused of burglary. The court 
 was filled at once with men shouting, " Let him be 
 hanged! " and the judge, without further delay, de- 
 cided to have him hanged. After he had given the 
 order for the execution, the official turned to his 
 foreign visitor and asked how such cases would be 
 treated in England. " Probably the criminal, after 
 a trial had proved him guilty, would be transported 
 to a distant colony, ' ' was answered. * ' And at what 
 cost? " inquired the judge; and when a probable 
 amount had been named, " What is the cost in 
 
CHABACTEB IN A BEPVBLIG 271 
 
 your country," he asked, " of a rope? " When lie 
 had been told, ' ' You must be great fools ! " he said. 
 But in our country, ladies and gentlemen, you know 
 that the court would supply a criminal like this with 
 free lodgings and a lawyer, jury and, possibly, a 
 judge, some of whom might not be above the sus- 
 picion of desiring to secure his services — one more 
 vote — at some approaching political contest. You 
 see, in our country the individual law-breaker would 
 be protected. The party could not afford to hang 
 him. The more fools we, perhaps ! Just think how 
 it would brace up the backbone and stiffen the neck 
 of a man, when tempted, if he could say with truth, 
 as he could have done in the good old times, " I'll 
 be hanged if I do it." 
 
 When we turn from the Orient to the more civil- 
 ized nations of Europe, we find that, in the degree 
 in which the people have become intelligent, the 
 government is obliged, in order to maintain its au- 
 thority, to pay more attention to their rights and 
 wishes. But yet, in many places, the theory un- 
 derlying administration continues to be the same, 
 namely, that all public movements must start from 
 above, with the crown or its ministers. The first 
 public espression ventured in Eussia — ^no one else 
 would have dared to breathe it — with reference to 
 the emancipation of the serfs, was uttered by the 
 Emperor himself, in a speech to the nobles of Mos- 
 cow in 1856, in which he told them that the exist- 
 ing manner of possessing serfs could not remain 
 unchanged. Even in England to-day, with few ex- 
 ceptions, it is only a member of the noble or wealthy 
 classes who can serve as an unsalaried legislator; 
 it is only a minister of the crown who is expected 
 
272 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 to introduce into Parliament measures of reform, 
 and, after they have been introduced, it is only a 
 score of men there, acknowledged to be leaders, who 
 are permitted, as a rule, by the members, as they 
 scrape down all others, to express on the floor their 
 opinions of these measures. As for the Continent 
 outside of England, all through it, the majority of 
 such things as, in our country, would be done in- 
 stinctively by individuals or by committees ap- 
 pointed by collections of individuals, are done by 
 the government. If there need to be a new bridge, 
 or sidewalk, or stage-line; if efforts be demanded 
 in behalf of commerce or agriculture, the poor, the 
 inebriate, the ignorant, the immoral, it is the gov- 
 ernment that is expected to perceive this and to 
 provide whatever is necessary — commissions, asy- 
 lums, hospitals, schools, churches. It is the gov- 
 ernment that pays the workman, engineer, physi- 
 cian, teacher or preacher, whom it appoints to 
 manage them. If they be not managed well, it is 
 the government, not the individual, who is respon- 
 sible — why should he trouble himself even to think 
 about such things? Indeed, in some countries the 
 government almost seems intent upon molding his 
 character so that he shall not think — seriously, at 
 least — about anything. What else can result from 
 forcing all the young men, just at the age when their 
 mental natures are most susceptible to its effects, 
 through the machinery of the army, where they are 
 kept from one to five years in a condition in which 
 they are expected on every occasion to obey an- 
 other's word of command, to act mechanically with- 
 out doing any brain- work of their own? 
 Now compare with these results those that we 
 
CEABACTEB IN A BEPUBLIC 273 
 
 find in our own country. Here the people are the 
 real sovereigns. The officials are called, and are, 
 public servants, put into their places to work for 
 their constituents, and removed if they fail to do so ; 
 while all the conditions of life are such as to stimu- 
 late and develop the influence of the man in private 
 station. We all know — it is merely an historical 
 fact — how character, as regards the power both of 
 thinking and of willing, is developed among those 
 who live where inhabitants are scattered, difficul- 
 ties many, and people are obliged to take care of 
 themselves and of one another, as on treacherous 
 seacoasts, in the wilds of the West, or near unex- 
 plored mountains. In our country we have an elab- 
 orate organization of society, the effect of which 
 is to produce something similar, — people who can 
 take care of themselves and of one another. The 
 very school-boys, swinging on the gates and 
 mounted on the fences to see the political proces- 
 sion march by, feel that they themselves constitute 
 a very important factor of the whole performance, 
 which they might improve, too, if they chose; and 
 every Sunday-school girl, with more of real wealth 
 in her flashing eye, and of beauty in her flushing 
 cheek, than all the gems or colors that ever made 
 brilliant the miter or the robe of the representative 
 of a State church, is trained to think that she has 
 a commission direct from heaven itself to move, 
 like the angel that she is, and, with her sweet voice, 
 call toward the house of G-od not only father, 
 mother, brother, but, in every household where she 
 finds herself, those with inflaming passions and 
 consuming appetites, who need to be snatched like 
 brands from the burning. Abroad, people grown 
 
274 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 up hardly know enough to snatch their own goods 
 from their own houses when they are burning. I 
 was once in a fourth story in a city over there, when 
 the two lower stories, including the passageway 
 in which was our staircase, were burned out. Of 
 course, like Americans, all of our own party packed 
 their trunks. The four mature persons who con- 
 stituted the family with which we were staying, 
 tho more disturbed, apparently, than ourselves, did 
 not touch finger to an article. When asked " Why 
 not? " their answer was, " The police, the police." 
 It did not seem to occur to them that anyone could 
 pack or remove their goods except the police. 
 With us the police would have been an after- 
 thought, scarcely expected to arrive tUl all the 
 danger was over. 
 
 But it is not only the responsibility of our pri- 
 vate citizen that it is important to notice, but also 
 his respectability. You and I feel just as respect- 
 able as we might, to-day, were we candidates for 
 office with all the opposition papers printing cari- 
 catures of us. We feel so largely because we have 
 learned that, when men occupy official position of 
 any kind, obligations to constituents and to parties 
 often trammel not only their expressions, but even 
 their opinions. It is often only the humble pri- 
 vate citizen who can afford to be, in the best sense, 
 independent,- — afford to plan, speak and do that 
 which shall make him a leader in thought and 
 action. But in our country what a leader he can 
 be! Every writer in our land knows that, as in 
 the case of Mrs. Stowe or of Horace Greeley, the 
 black line trailing behind his pen may lead, has 
 led, many times in many places, to public convul- 
 
CEABACTEB IN A REPUBLIC 275 
 
 sions more salutary, and sometimes not less san- 
 guinary, than could have followed the line of 
 powder trailed under the Parliament Houses of 
 England in the slow match of Guy Faux. Every 
 speaker in our land knows that, if he have the mind 
 to conceive of a plan of reform and the voice to 
 plead for it, then, like those first advocates of 
 emancipation, not one of whom ever held office, 
 crowned only by the sovereignty of pure intellect, 
 using only the weapons of enlightened reason, he 
 may move triumphantly across the country — what 
 Emperor more so? — till, perhaps, millions of reso- 
 lute men march to war behind him, millions of 
 grateful slaves spring into freedom before him, 
 and all things surrounding echo to his name — 
 which may still ring like an alarum to aspiration 
 in the future when all the trappings that deck the 
 mere official position of his time shall have crum- 
 bled into dust. Who cares now to hear anything 
 about certain of our presidents? What heart fails 
 to be thrilled through and through to listen to the 
 story of Garrison or Phillips? 
 
 These opportunities for influence, too, are af- 
 forded for the private citizen in the direction of 
 administrative affairs not only, but in all direc- 
 tions. Our mingling together as we do, in schools, 
 assemblies, churches, opening the doors between 
 different classes of society, and allowing an easy 
 circulation between one and the other, is constantly 
 prompting those born in the lowliest positions to 
 strive to obtain recognition in the highest circles, 
 by conforming their own lives to the highest stand- 
 ards of manners and of mentality. As a result, 
 most of them are prepared to evince, amid all the 
 
276 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 changing conditions of outward circumstances, such 
 a degree of good taste and ready tact as to render 
 a native-born production on our own soil of what 
 abroad is termed a snob, a combination of servility 
 and pretentiousness, almost an impossibility. 
 
 And notice, ladies and gentlemen, that the results 
 upon private intelligence and character which I 
 have mentioned spring mainly from the theories 
 underlying our political institutions. They are at- 
 tributable to our republican government. Some 
 such results always are attributable to republican 
 government wherever it exists. We ought never to 
 forget that the great intellectual periods of ancient 
 Greece and Eome, and of Italy just before the Eef- 
 ormation, were developed in generations trained 
 up in the republics of those times, republics not in 
 the complete sense in which ours is a republic, but 
 in the sense of being governments submitting 
 methods of public administration to large numbers 
 of individuals composing each community, who 
 were thus stimulated to think, choose and take 
 sides. The great intellectual movements that fol- 
 lowed the Reformation in Germany, England, and 
 France took place during times in which individ- 
 uals, if not living in actual republics, were, never- 
 theless, in the unsettled conditions of public af- 
 fairs, stimulated precisely as they would have been 
 in republics, to think, choose and take sides. On 
 the contrary, the intellectual activity of Greece 
 closed soon after her people had yielded to the sword 
 of Alexander, that of ancient Eome soon after 
 hers had bowed to the crown of the Caesars, that of 
 Spain and Italy soon after theirs had knelt to the 
 thumb-screw of the Inquisition. After the first ef- 
 
CEABAGTEB IN A BEPUBLIG 277 
 
 fects of the Eeformation, intellectual progress in 
 Germany and France was almost trampled out for 
 a time by the tread of invading armies led by mili- 
 tary despots; and that of the last century has con- 
 tinued, as many think, largely because, amid spir- 
 itual assumption often gathered in clouds so dark 
 above that not one ray from heaven seemed any 
 longer visible, amid material armaments crowding 
 so thickly about that often not one path to progress 
 seemed any longer unimpeded, the thinkers and 
 toilers of the Old World have, nevertheless, espied, 
 standing steadfast upon the shore on this side of 
 the Atlantic, a form which the people of France — 
 not I — have deemed worthy of being represented 
 in the greatest statue of the age, ' ' Liberty with her 
 torch enlightening the world." 
 
 Enlightening the world, too, not only politically, 
 but socially and religiously. According to the the- 
 ory prevalent in the Old World, tho it is not al- 
 ways consistently carried out, we see the authori- 
 ties in State and Church controlling, and, in order 
 to keep control, repressing the energies of the peo- 
 ple, save so far as permitted to labor for those who 
 consider themselves above them. All through Eu- 
 rope this system extends into all the relations of life. 
 In some countries a gentleman thinks it not re- 
 spectable for him to carry in the street a package 
 weighing a pound. His wife and child over whom he 
 lords may stagger at his side bearing twenty times 
 that weight. " My God," said one of their ladies 
 to me once, when I had gone shopping with her, 
 " don't carry that in the street," and to avoid a 
 public quarrel, I had to let her take home for me 
 my own purchases. In the Orient, things are 
 
278 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 worse. The small boys and girls in the shops do 
 the work that supports both parents. If such a sys- 
 tem of repression dwarfs the growing body and 
 mind, what does it do for the soul that, looking up 
 through those that represent earthly authority, can 
 conceive of no authority in heaven that is not also 
 tyrannical? What is a ruler or a father there but 
 a being to be feared alone ? 
 
 But, according to the theory prevailing in this 
 New "World, tho it, too, is not always consistently 
 carried out, the order of things just mentioned is 
 reversed. Here the authorities in State and Church 
 are beneath, — public servants, ministering to the 
 people for the organized purpose of stimulating 
 them to the greatest possibilities of free develop- 
 ment. And this system, too, extends into all the 
 relations of life. Here the strong man bears the 
 burdens of the weaker woman and both parents 
 those of the weaker child, whose soul looking up 
 through those that represent authority on earth, 
 can hardly conceive of a ruler or a father in heaven 
 who is not a being to be loved. 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen, it is because, notwith- 
 standing much in the outward aspects of our in- 
 stitutions which must appear unsatisfactory, there 
 are within the husk, these seeds containing possi- 
 bilities of harvests full of unlimited promise for 
 the world, that they are worthy of our profoundest 
 reverence and most loyal devotion. There are 
 those who would actuate you to these by dwelling 
 on the fact that our territory is extensive, our re- 
 sources boundless, our population ever on the in- 
 crease. But all these things may be aflSrmed with 
 equal truth of the continent of Asia. There are 
 
CHABACTEB IN A REPUBLIC 279 
 
 those who would point you with pride to the na- 
 tions and families from which our people trace 
 their origin. But we are of many races, and the 
 mists of the common ocean, through which all have 
 passed, as if to be thus baptized into our land's 
 new life of freedom, have washed away all that 
 rendered most attractive the older life of aristoc- 
 racy. Eather than any of these things let us cher- 
 ish those ideas, some of which I have been trying 
 to recall to you this afternoon; those ideas vitaliz- 
 ing our institutions as the soul the body; those 
 ideas that, one hundred and twenty years ago, in 
 colonies where time-honored rights were being 
 wrested away, where lording bishops were laying 
 hands on independent churches, and irresponsible 
 soldiers were trampling upon privileges granted 
 by royal charters and prerogatives exercised by 
 lawful assemblies, caused those men of Lexington, 
 whose action so thrilled your forefathers in your 
 old meeting house here when they heard of it, — 
 caused those eighty farmers of Lexington in the 
 face of eight hundred English veterans who came 
 against them, to stand like a wall of blood between 
 the might of the sovereign and the right of the sub- 
 ject ; and finally those ideas which, years later, when 
 freedom to develop all that is best in manhood 
 which had been obtained by the many was being 
 forcibly denied to the few, hurled those trained to 
 be the champions of liberty in the North upon those 
 who had not learned all that they should have 
 learned by being its beneficiaries in the South, as 
 if Providence had designed to pour both together 
 into the flaming caldron of conflict, in order, when 
 the passion of war had cooled, to show, molded 
 
280 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 from tLe elements thus fused, a grander, wiser, 
 nobler man of the people. Fellow-citizens, is it too 
 much to say that to be permitted to live with this 
 man and for this man is a privilege for which we 
 cannot be too thankful; and one for which we can- 
 not fail to hope and believe that our children's chil- 
 dren will always continue to be thankful? 
 
NATIONAL PEOBITY THE PRICE OF 
 NATIONAL PEOSPERITY* 
 
 Every man born into this world possesses a cer- 
 tain amount of sense. If, on some occasions, with 
 reference to some particular subjects, he and his 
 friends — ^his party as we may say — seem to us to 
 have expended very little of it, there is, perhaps, all 
 the more reason to infer that he has a good deal of 
 it left. If he have any of it left, in a country like 
 our own, where it is the duty, as well as right, of 
 everybody to think, one who differs in opinion from 
 him ought to try to appeal to this sense, — to his 
 common sense, as we say. This is the reason why 
 I am here to-night, — to present to some of you who 
 differ from me a few plain facts, and to try to get 
 you to think about them. It is not because I im- 
 agine that you have been exercising no thought, — 
 only not quite enough of it ; not because I think that 
 there is no truth and force in the arguments that 
 have hitherto influenced you, — only, perhaps, not 
 enough of them. 
 
 It seems to me, and to others who agree with me, 
 that one question to be settled in this campaign, 
 for which all other questions, for the time being, 
 should be waived aside, has to do with that which 
 is at the very basis of the commercial life of the 
 
 * Delivered first at the Plemington (N. J.) Opera House, then, in 
 sutstance, at other places, and locally reported several times, dur- 
 ing the Presidential Campaign of 1896. 
 
282 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 country. At the battle of Spires, where the French 
 had been ordered to give no quarter, a German of- 
 ficer who had been surrounded begged for his life. 
 " Ask any other favor," said a Frenchman, " and 
 you may have it; but to give you your life is im- 
 possible." Our political adversaries seem saying 
 to us to-day, "Ask any other favor, and you may 
 have it, but to give you your commercial life is im- 
 possible." Occasions when that which is vital to 
 business prosperity is threatened, are not uncommon 
 in a country like ours; and experience has shown 
 that, when they present themselves, all the people 
 of all the parties should, if possible, get together 
 and put an end to them. Twenty years ago, as 
 most of you remember, times were hard, and, ap- 
 parently, as many people as now were ready to as- 
 cribe the trouble to the nature of our currency. 
 They said then that we needed not silver, as is said 
 now, but irredeemable paper money. Their propo- 
 sition — to the joy of many of us, tho urged largely 
 by members of our own party — ^was voted down; 
 and without the change that had been advocated 
 there followed the most prosperous times that this 
 country has ever known. 
 
 The majority of us, as I think, believe that this 
 history of the past in all of its essential details and 
 results will be repeated now. At least, we purpose 
 to face the issue and fight it precisely as was done 
 with the former issue. We purpose to deal with it 
 as the Gascon did with what someone told him was 
 the ghost of a man whom he had once killed in 
 battle. " Ho! " he cried, " you want to be killed a 
 second time, do you? Here's your man." They 
 purpose to dispose of the matter, too, before they 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 283 
 
 have had a chance to see what, if let alone, the 
 enemy will do. They refuse to take kindly to the 
 sort of experiment recommended to the boy in or- 
 der to find out whether or not what seemed a mush- 
 room was a toadstool: " Eat it, and, if you die, it's 
 a toadstool." They fail to consider it wise to wait 
 till all possible harm has been done ; and then elect 
 a Congress and President, four years hence, to cor- 
 rect it. They fear that, to pursue this course, might 
 accomplish no more good than that resolution, said 
 to have been seriously introduced once into the Eng- 
 lish House of Commons, to make suicide a capital 
 offense. 
 
 Perhaps some of you think that the three or four 
 references to death just made involve the use of 
 language a little too strong for our subject? Let 
 me modify it then, as the Capuchin monk did with 
 a statement of his, when preaching before Louis 
 XIV, " "We shall all die," he cried; then, noticing 
 the sharp glance of the king, he went on, " yes, 
 sire, we shall almost all die." Of course, when re- 
 ferring to death in this coimection, one means the 
 death of business, of commerce, of prosperity, and, 
 with it, of a sense of security, of comfort and of 
 happiness. Let me tell you why I think the death 
 of these is threatened. The distinguished leader of 
 the opposition party, in his journey from Chicago 
 to New York, excited much applause on many oc- 
 casions by saying that this country ought to be in- 
 dependent of Great Britain. Of course it ought. 
 The statement is one of those to which I referred 
 when I said that there is some truth and force in 
 the arguments of the opposition party; but not 
 enough of either. The whole truth can be ex- 
 
284 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 prest only by saying that the country ought to 
 be independent of Great Britain so far as this is 
 possible or practicable in view of our own interests. 
 You and I like to be independent of our neighbors, 
 especially of any whom we think to be particularly 
 self-centered. But one who tries to be independ- 
 ent of even such neighbors, when, by another 
 course, he can make something out of them, is not 
 acting the part of a wise man. If we want to make 
 anything out of Great Britain or of any other great 
 nation, it is not possible nor practicable for our 
 country to be commercially independent of it. 
 
 Least of all, can we be independent of it when 
 dealing with this question of money. Money is a 
 standard of value, made a standard for the pur- 
 pose of being made a medium of exchange. I give 
 you a certain quantity and quality of goods, and, 
 you, in return, give me a certain amount of money, 
 and thus we trade; but it would be impossible to 
 trade with money unless we could agree as to what 
 we should consider its exact value. Our annual for- 
 eign trade, most of which is done with Great Brit- 
 ain, including exports and imports, to say nothing 
 about exchanges of bonds, and stocks, and real 
 estate, and other forms of investment, amounts to 
 about sixteen hundred millions of dollars a year, — 
 more than half as much as the largest debt that this 
 country ever, at one time, had contracted. To 
 carry on this trade requires money as a medium of 
 exchange; and, as the trade is international, it re- 
 quires money concerning the value of which both 
 the nations trading can agree. At present, all na- 
 tions agree with reference to the value of gold. In 
 our country, we use for money not only gold, but 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 285 
 
 also silver and paper. These latter, however — and 
 not only here but all over Europe — are worth what 
 they are because the government has put its stamp 
 on them. This stamp indicates, and in some cases 
 states, that the government has paid the silver or 
 paper to its creditors and has put it in circulation, 
 and has declared by law that the people shall ac- 
 cept it as a legal tender equal in value to a certain 
 amount of gold. Because of stamping thus this 
 silver and paper, the government has become mo- 
 rally as well as, in some cases, legally bound to pay 
 in gold that which is said to be its value. If it were 
 not for this guarantee, on the part of the govern- 
 ment, the paper in a paper dollar would be worth 
 only its market value, that is less than one cent; 
 and the silver in a silver dollar would be worth, as 
 prices are to-day, only fifty-three cents. The free 
 coinage of silver involves the removal of any ob- 
 ligation or guarantee on the part of the govern- 
 ment to make good the worth of the dollar in the 
 more valuable medium. It means, unless the pas- 
 sage of the law could lift the price of silver, that 
 the owner of silver bullion worth in the market 
 fifty-three dollars could take this to the United 
 States ' mints and have it coined, at government ex- 
 pense, into one hundred dollars, and then have a 
 legal right to force you and me and everybody to 
 whom he was indebted for real estate, or salaries, 
 or wages, to accept this fifty-three dollars worth 
 of bullion for one hundred dollars. In case we had 
 what is termed the free coinage of silver whether 
 silver went up or down in price — and some of our 
 wisest financiers say that it would undoubtedly go 
 down — ^with it would go up or down the value of 
 
286 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 tliat which we had earned. This would be so be- 
 cause there would be no government pledge, as 
 there is now, behind the silver dollar to make it 
 always worth the same in all the markets of the 
 world. 
 
 Should not this result as thus merely stated be 
 enough to condemn the cause of it? Money is 
 meant to be a convenience. We put into it our earn- 
 ings, or our property, in order to keep the value of 
 these just where it has been. If we use a medium, 
 the value of which we cannot determine from one 
 day to another, it will become not a convenience, 
 but an inconvenience. If the people of this country, 
 next November, vote so that suddenly you and I 
 wake up and find that our wages, salaries and earn- 
 ings may or may not be worth fifty cents on a dol- 
 lar — even if we find that, by some unforeseen acci- 
 dent which no financier, at least, seems now to be 
 able to anticipate, they be worth as much as eighty 
 or ninety cents on a dollar,— we shall consider the 
 result not only inconvenient but unjust. 
 
 I began to speak, however, of the relations of the 
 subject to foreign commerce. When communities 
 are very small, and have few dealings with outside 
 people, they can use almost anything as money 
 which they choose to agree to use as such. In Abys- 
 sinia they formerly exchanged small cakes; in 
 Eussia leather stamped by the government; and, in 
 one of the wars in Ireland, the army leaders melted 
 up all the old iron that they could find, and stamped 
 it. But when the Abyssinians came to trade with 
 other races, or the Eussians crossed the borders of 
 their own land, or the army in which the iron had 
 circulated moved into another district, the cakes, 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 287 
 
 the leather and the iron became worth no more than 
 their market value. Even upon a supposition that 
 a silver dollar stamped by our government without 
 a government obligation to keep it as good as gold 
 — for we must not forget that this is what free coin- 
 age involves — could circulate for more than fifty- 
 three cents in our own country, what reason have 
 we to suppose that it could circulate for more than 
 this in foreign countries? And if not, what then? 
 To-day, silver is the standard in Mexico; and a 
 Mexican dollar actually contains more silver than 
 an American. Yet for one American silver dollar 
 — and because of our government's obligation to 
 keep its value on a parity with that of gold — for 
 one American silver dollar, you can buy almost two 
 Mexican dollars. Suppose that, six or seven years 
 ago, you had invested twenty thousand American 
 dollars in Mexico, and that these were owing you 
 and that, because of some unforeseen action of the 
 Mexican government, it would not be possible for 
 you to get in return for them any more, say, than 
 twelve thousand American dollars, what would you 
 think of the action of the Mexican government that 
 had rendered such a form of repayment possible ; or 
 of the people of Mexico who had authorized the 
 action? That is just the form of repayment to Eu- 
 ropean investors which, according to the acknowl- 
 edgment of everyone who thinks of the subject at 
 all, will be rendered possible and, according to the 
 views of thousands of our wisest thinkers, will be 
 rendered probable, by the mere election to office of 
 the party-candidates whom I am here to oppose. 
 Can you imagine any degree of confidence which the 
 people of Europe may have in our country, or in our 
 
288 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 institutions, which this action on our part would not 
 totally destroy? 
 
 I asked this question of a gentleman of my own 
 town, the other day, and he replied that it was none 
 of his concern what Europeans thought of us. It 
 was a reply, the bearing of which, it is evident that 
 he had not considered. It, certainly, is as much the 
 duty of a nation, as of an individual, to " avoid the 
 appearance of evil " by providing " things honest 
 in the sight of all men." And no one who has read 
 with any care the speeches and writings of patriots 
 and statesmen, not of our own country alone, but 
 of foreign countries, can fail to recognize that there 
 is, at least, one weighty reason why these principles 
 should be applied by those of us who live in this 
 country. It is because the country represents that 
 which the people of France have embodied in the 
 statue placed by them in the harbor at New York, 
 " Liberty with its torch enlightening the world." 
 There was a time, and there are many places in the 
 world now, in which to give liberty to every human 
 being — the right to be educated and thus to become 
 informed; the right to think and to utter the thing 
 thought; the right to choose and to follow the 
 course chosen; the right, in short, to do whatever 
 will not interfere with the same right as exercised 
 by another — all these, together with the right to 
 vote for rulers and legislators so that they will 
 never dare to make laws preventing the exercise of 
 such rights, — there was a time when to give liberty 
 in this sense — these rights to the people in general 
 — was seriously thought to involve the highest de- 
 gree of unwisdom. In our country we have claimed, 
 and we have believed that we had proved, that this 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 289 
 
 course is not unwise. We have pointed to the re- 
 sults of our free schools, as seen in our high level of 
 general intelligence ; to the results of our free com- 
 petition, as seen in the ingenuity which has been 
 stimulated to the development of all possible re- 
 sources of wealth in the farm and mine and fac- 
 tory; to the results of our free suffrage, which has 
 led to the selection of law-makers, through whose 
 wise provisions all parts of the land have been con- 
 nected by railways and canals and other channels 
 of commerce, and industries have been so fostered 
 that wages, during the last thirty years, have been 
 more than doubled, prices of many commodities 
 been greatly lessened, and comfort, if not compe- 
 tence, has been placed within reach of almost every 
 industrious and economical household. With still 
 more pride we have pointed to the public spirit and 
 the enlightened humanitarianism of our people, as 
 eAdnced in the hospitals, asylums, colleges and 
 churches provided, and sustained by private con- 
 tributions; while, related to this as cause to effect, 
 we have taken pride in certain unique and superior 
 qualities of manhood which we believe that our in- 
 stitutions have developed. We have dwelt upon 
 the self-control of our people as evinced in the quiet 
 of our small villages in which we see, because we 
 need, no policemen, such as appear at almost every 
 corner of European villages ; and as evinced in the 
 order of our large cities maintained without the as- 
 sistance of quartered regiments and military gen- 
 darmes, such as seem continuously marching and 
 countermarching through the streets of some of the 
 foreign cities. But, above all, in thinking of the 
 traits that our people have developed, we have 
 
290 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 dwelt, as we have thought, rightly or wrongly, that 
 we had a logical reason to do, upon that truthful- 
 ness which we helieve to be best cultivated where 
 no fear of tyrannical dictation represses expression, 
 and upon that honesty which seems the natural re- 
 sponse of a man who has been given his own due 
 when he is called upon to give the same to another. 
 But suppose now that, as a result of submitting 
 public questions to the vote of people in general, it 
 be proved that they manifest no more intelligence 
 than to overthrow the financial methods on which 
 their history proves that their whole prosperity has 
 been built; no more integrity than, by concurrent 
 action, after ample discussion of the subject, to re- 
 solve deliberately to cheat foreign investors, or only 
 to dare to run the risk of cheating them out of forty 
 cents on every dollar, — then what becomes of our 
 arguments in favor of manhood suffrage? Why, 
 friends, if we could believe that such a result were 
 possible, we should be obliged to believe also that, 
 for every man in Europe, who, in the past, could 
 subscribe for the erection of a statue of Liberty in 
 the form of a good genius holding aloft a torch 
 with which to enlighten the world, a hundred 
 would be found willing to subscribe for a statue 
 of the same Liberty in the form of a spirit of evil 
 with a torch inverted to symbolize the darkening of 
 the world. 
 
 Talk about patriotism as being involved in the 
 issues of this campaign! There is more than that 
 involved. It involves being faithful or unfaithful 
 to the cause of liberty everywhere, to the principles 
 at the basis of what some of us consider the chief 
 instrumentality that makes for the welfare of hu- 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 291 
 
 manity in general. Think of the long and sad, but 
 gallant and glorious struggle of the people through 
 all the ages to wrest what seemed due them from 
 the tyranny of one ruler, or of one ruling class; 
 then think that it is possible for you by your vote 
 this fall to cast the weight of your influence against 
 those who have been engaged on the right side of 
 this struggle. The tree of liberty which all the 
 world of philanthropists had hoped would fill the 
 air with sweetness from its blossoms and nourish 
 the famishing with its fruit, you will do your best 
 to prove to be only a weed whose fragrance is nox- 
 ious and whose fruit is deadly! Not care what 
 England or Europe thinks, if our whole people, as a 
 people, prove to be dishonest? I can imagine a 
 man — a noble, right-minded man — looking on the 
 flag of his country after this had been proved, and 
 beginning to imagine himself almost literally in 
 hell, as he felt the heat of his own blushes. How 
 long after our people had begun to have, and to 
 have a right to have, such feelings, do you suppose 
 that our institutions could endure ? Or — to consider 
 the subject in a less emotional way — how long, after 
 the intelligent and thrifty classes of our country 
 had begun to find that manhood suffrage had led to 
 public enactments defrauding them of almost half 
 the wages and salaries for which they had con- 
 tracted; of almost half their savings stored in sav- 
 ings banks and in insurance companies; of almost 
 half their investments in principle and interest — 
 whether stocks, bonds or mortgages — in short, after 
 these classes had begun to have good reason to con- 
 sider our free institutions injurious to both public 
 honor and private welfare, — ^how long do you sup- 
 
292 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 pose that they would permit these institutions to re- 
 main as they are? 
 
 Let it once be proved to the satisfaction of any 
 large number of thoughtful men that the result of 
 universal suffrage is a condition in which the people 
 show not only so little conscience as to vote away 
 their national integrity, but so little wisdom as to 
 vote away their individual prosperity, and, just as 
 surely as the sun that rises in the east sets in 
 the west not to reappear again till after a long 
 night of darkness, just so surely will whatever has 
 brought brightness to our modern day of liberty 
 pass into twilight and gloom. 
 
 Historians have recorded that at a time when the 
 people of Athens were accustomed to meet together 
 in assembly, in order to render decisions with ref- 
 erence to public policy, Themistocles, their great- 
 est soldier and statesman, rose before them and 
 said that he had conceived a plan by which it would 
 be possible to augment in the very highest degree 
 the power and the influence of their city; but, that, 
 owing to the nature of the plan it would be impos- 
 sible to carry it out in case it were communicated 
 to any large number of people. He asked the as- 
 sembly, therefore, to appoint what we should term 
 a committee for the purpose of considering the 
 matter. The assembly decided to have it sub- 
 mitted to the judgment of Aristides, surnamed the 
 just, in whose intelligence and integrity they all 
 felt that they could confide. When Aristides and 
 Themistocles had withdrawn, the latter disclosed his 
 plan. He said that the fleets of all the other Greek 
 states were now lying in a neighboring harbor. He 
 proved that it would be possible to burn them all; 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 293 
 
 and he proved, too, that this act would, at once, 
 place Athens in a position where she would easily 
 be foremost among the Greek states. Aristides re- 
 turned to the assembly, and told the people that 
 nothing could be done more advantageous to their 
 commonwealth than to carry out the plan proposed 
 by Themistocles ; but, he added, it would involve 
 dealing unfairly with other commonwealths. This 
 was all that he said. And what do you suppose was 
 the decision of the assembly with reference to the 
 matter? How did this people, whom the world ever 
 since has regarded, on account of their contributions 
 to philosophy, to poetry, to art, to ethics as the 
 greatest that the ages have ever known, — ^how did 
 this people, at this important crisis in their history, 
 show their greatness? How? By unanimously 
 voting against the proposition. Do not make the 
 mistake of thinking, friends, that there is any es- 
 sential and permanent excellence in any department 
 attained by any people that is not primarily based 
 upon excellence of character. Everybody in our 
 country knows that, whatever advantage might 
 accrue to our own people by voting to pay our ob- 
 ligations according to a silver standard, this silver, 
 taken to Europe, would, without international 
 agreement, prove an unfair equivalent for their 
 money invested with us. Yet some have dared to 
 advocate this course on the ground of patriotism. 
 They would establish the greatness and grandeur 
 of our country by showing how small and mean we 
 can be in our dealings with other countries. 
 
 I have been speaking of patriotic considerations. 
 Now let us glance at a few practical ones. I myself 
 cannot recall a single American enterprise involving 
 
294 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 a large expenditure of money, whether for water- 
 works, canals, railways, bridges, or the develop- 
 ment of mines or manufacturing, that has not 
 largely obtained the means for its development 
 from foreign capital. Almost the first thing that 
 is done after the conception of any such enterprise, 
 is to place its stock and bonds on the London 
 market. It is from thence that the bulk, often, of 
 the money is obtained with which to carry on the 
 work; and the most of the money itself is paid out 
 in this country to labor as engaged either in takiag 
 the material from the ground, or in shaping it and 
 placing it in position. How much money do you 
 suppose that England alone has invested in this 
 way in this country? It has been calculated to be 
 about forty- two thousand millions; and remember 
 the entire debt incurred by our civil war was less 
 than three thousand millions. Forty-two thousand 
 millions, — this is the amount that has passed out of 
 English pockets into the pockets largely of Ameri- 
 can workingmen. And these performers in this po- 
 litical circus of ours who are riding not merely a 
 hobby, but what in the circumstances is very ap- 
 propriately typified by the term donkey, in their 
 eagerness to appear as champions of an unthinking 
 prejudice are so ignorant of what is going on in the 
 world that they fail to know enough to know that the 
 very first condition enabling one to bait a bull — in 
 this case the English bull — is to gain his confidence. 
 Why, you couldn't milk the mildest kind of a cow 
 even, without doing that! Don't you see the neces- 
 sity for trying to establish confidence as applied to 
 a source that for years has undoubtedly furnished 
 most of the milk with which to nourish our coun- 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 295 
 
 try's growth. There was never a better illustra- 
 tion of trying to saw off the limb of a tree on which 
 one himself is dependent for support, than in this 
 stupid talk about being financially independent of 
 England. 
 
 Suppose that, by the concerted action of our 
 people, as manifested by the way in which we vote 
 this fall, we cheat the foreigner out of forty-seven 
 cents on every dollar of his investments here; or 
 suppose we do not do it; suppose that we merely 
 take such action as to make him think that we are 
 willing to run the risk of making it possible to do it, 
 what then? How many generations do you suppose 
 it will be before he recovers from a feeling of dis- 
 trust with reference to the safety of investments in 
 America? I well remember the smothered indig- 
 nation with which I used to hear it said, when in 
 Europe five years ago, that these were insecure, — 
 as if, forsooth, our business enterprise, sagacity, in- 
 tegrity had not been indisputably proved to all the 
 world! as if all intelligent people didn't know it! 
 But now if, by public action, we prove the contrary 
 to all intelligent people, what then? 
 
 In the free trade agitation of four years ago, both 
 on the stump and in the halls of Congress, nothing 
 I think, must have imprest most of us more, what- 
 ever our political convictions, than the reiterated 
 presumption, on the part of so many of the speakers, 
 that the progress of our country had been owing to 
 its unlimited natural resources. Why, gentlemen, 
 there are as many natural resources— perhaps, in 
 proportion to the extent of territory covered, there 
 are more undeveloped natural resources — water- 
 ways, ores, minerals — in Mexico, Brazil and other 
 
296 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 Soutli American republics, yes in Africa and Asia, 
 to-day, than there are in our own country. That 
 which has caused our marvelous development, is 
 not what is in or below our soil, but what is above 
 it, — the manhood that is here, its intelligence, its in- 
 tegrity, the institutions that it has founded, the 
 methods for development that it has originated, the 
 financial principles that it has applied. If as a re- 
 sult of these methods and principles we have ad- 
 vanced in a hundred years further than any other 
 nation has ever before advanced in the same length 
 of time, it seems to be a simple matter of common 
 sense — to say nothing of a wise appreciation of the 
 experience of the past, or a patriotic regard for the 
 teachings of our fathers — ^not to make too radical 
 a change in these methods and principles, even tho 
 it sometimes may oblige us to talk what a newspaper 
 of this neighborhood, recently forced into the hands 
 of a receiver, because, apparently, there were so few 
 willing to receive it, when not forced upon them, 
 calls twaddle about our traditional method of rais- 
 ing revenue in such a way as, at the same time, to 
 foster our home industries. 
 
 To apply this to our subject,— it is not merely 
 because of our resources, but because of the se- 
 curity which it has been supposed that our laws 
 and the integrity of our people would afford to the 
 property-holder, that investors from abroad have 
 sent to this country, rather than to others, the 
 money through the aid of which we have devel- 
 oped so rapidly. Now prove that our laws, at the 
 instigation of a few unwise leaders, can be changed 
 so as not to afford security to the property-owner; 
 that our people are capable, at one stroke, of de- 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 297 
 
 priving foreign capitalists of half the value of their 
 investment, and it is supposing them to be very 
 gullible, indeed, to imagine that they will make 
 haste to send over here any more money. Better 
 for their patronage would be the small South 
 American Republic; better, because, if its people 
 proved dishonest, they could be brought to terms, 
 as ours could not be, by a few European gunboats. 
 There is nothing so mean as a bully who is a bully 
 because he is big. And that is the proud position, 
 the independence of the opinions and rights of all 
 the rest of the world, to which some of our friends 
 think it patriotic to try to elevate the ideal of man- 
 hood represented by our country. 
 
 It is no answer to this to say that these invest- 
 ments of foreigners were made years ago, when a 
 dollar was worth less than to-day; and that there- 
 fore we have a right to pay back less for it. Large 
 parts of these investments have been made within 
 a very few years — a hundred millions or more 
 since we began to issue bonds for revenue; and, 
 probably, during no other five or six years of our 
 history was so much foreign capital invested here 
 as during the first twelve months following the pas- 
 sage of the McKinley bill, foreigners recognizing, 
 as some of our own people did not, the immense 
 stimulus that it would give to American produc- 
 tion. 
 
 Nor is it a sufficient answer to this line of 
 thought to say that free coinage would bring up 
 the price of silver, and make a dollar's worth of it 
 equal that of a dollar in gold. No one claims that 
 this would be true of silver as used in England, un- 
 less its price were to be determined, as the Repub- 
 
298 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 licans urge that it should be, by international agree- 
 ment; and I know of but one man — a somewhat 
 prejudiced man, because his own elevation to the 
 Presidency depends upon having others accept the 
 view — who has claimed that this would be true in 
 our own country. But history, as embodied in very 
 recent experiences that all of us can recall, is 
 against him. The United States tried to make the 
 price of silver equal to that of gold by the Blaine- 
 AUison act, passed in 1878. This obliged the gov- 
 ernment to buy a certain amount of silver every 
 month; but, during all the years in which the act 
 was in force, the price of silver kept declining. 
 Then, by the so-called Sherman law passed in 1890, 
 the government was obliged to buy more — four 
 million five hundred thousand dollar's worth of it 
 — every month; but after this, too, the price of 
 silver kept declining. Now suppose we pass a free 
 silver act; and allow any man who has bullion, to 
 bring it to the mint and get it coined into dollars. 
 All the mints of the United States, working the 
 whole time, were unable to coin as much silver in 
 a year as the United States was obliged to buy 
 yearly under the Sherman act. Tell me how no 
 greater coinage of silver than was possible under 
 that act could make the price of silver higher than 
 it did? Of course it can be argued that if the 
 government should buy all the silver, including all 
 the forks and spoons in our country, and then re- 
 fuse to sell them, it might produce what is termed 
 a " corner " in the market, and thus force up the 
 price. But this is not the action that is proposed. 
 No need of our pausing, then, even to show that it 
 is not feasible! 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 299 
 
 The project proposed is the free and unlimited 
 coinage of silver. Suppose that we were to allow 
 this. With the enormous stimulus to the mining 
 of silver which would undoubtedly follow, it is a 
 question whether enough in proportion could be 
 coined by the mints to increase the demand suffi- 
 ciently to raise the price in the least. If the price 
 were not raised, then not only foreigners but all 
 our own people living on wages, or savings, would 
 be cheated out of forty-seven cents on every dol- 
 lar; and if it were raised, raised to one hundred 
 cents on the dollar, then most things would remain 
 as at present. We should have lost the confidence 
 of Europe; and not even the farmer, now selling 
 his wheat for fifty cents a bushel, would be able to 
 sell it for any more. It is very strange, by the way, 
 that anyone can fail to recognize that if the price 
 of wheat were to go up because of free silver, the 
 price of almost everything else would go up for the 
 same reason. The dollar worth fifty cents obtained 
 for wheat would buy no more than the fifty cents 
 that one can get for it now. 
 
 There are, however, two things that would not 
 go up in this way — interest upon one's investments 
 and wages. I remember, one day, going into the 
 study of one of my fellow professors at Princeton, 
 and seeing hanging over his mantel an envelope 
 tied with a white ribbon. It enclosed a letter from 
 the Secretary of the Board of Trustees informing 
 him that, after eighteen years of his waiting and 
 urging, they had, at last, voted to give him a sal- 
 ary which would enable him to live without con- 
 stant and conscious scrimping. Now if we have 
 fifty-cent dollars, the investments of the college 
 
300 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 at present bringing in one hundred cents for the 
 dollar will bring in only fifty cents, and the pur- 
 chasing power of this man's salary will be dimin- 
 ished by one-half. When I think of such a result 
 as this — of the mere possibility of it — when I think 
 of it as applied to laborers in less lucrative posi- 
 tions; when I think of the long struggle which has 
 been going on in this country for the last thirty 
 years, sometimes through individual effort, some- 
 times through trade unions, sometimes through 
 arguments, sometimes through strikes verging on 
 the borders of unjustifiable force, to lift, little by 
 little, the wages of our workingmen; when I think 
 of the pride that every true patriot among us has 
 taken in that supreme proof of the success of our 
 institutions, — the fact that, on the whole, the masses 
 of the people in this country are better housed, fed, 
 clothed and educated, because they are better paid 
 than anywhere else, — when I think of these things, 
 and then think of men who have no more sympa- 
 thy with the struggles of labor, no more apprecia- 
 tion of the triumphs of humanity, no more recog- 
 nition of that which constitutes the true glory of 
 America, than to go about the country advocating 
 a scheme which they know threatens, at least, to 
 nullify all these advances that have been made 
 here, and to put thousands and hundreds of thou- 
 sands of our people back into a condition in which 
 they thought themselves rich when making only a 
 dollar a day, — when I think of these facts, it alijiost 
 shakes my faith in the ability of republican insti- 
 tutions to lift mankind to that high level of broth- 
 erly regard for others for which our forefathers 
 prayed and hoped. 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 301 
 
 I have been trying to make clear to you certain 
 patriotic and practical reasons for considering the 
 measures proposed by our political opponents to 
 be unwise. Before closing, I ought, perhaps, to 
 notice the principal argument by which they seek 
 to refute such opinions as I have exprest. They 
 are not igiiorant of what our arguments are. But, 
 they say, that these, tho applying, with a certain 
 force, to the welfare of the capitalist, do not apply 
 to the welfare of him whom they term the laboring 
 man. In answer to this, let me, in the first place, 
 recall for you the fact that I have tried to show 
 the application of everything that I have said to 
 the needs of the laboring man, as well as of the 
 capitalist ; and, in the second place, let me tell you 
 why I have done this, — what is the reason of it. 
 There is a principle involved in this reason, a very 
 important principle, and one not always recog- 
 nized. Therefore, when it thrusts itself into the 
 direct line of thought on an occasion like this, it 
 ought to be brought to the light, if possible, and 
 exhibited so that all may see it clearly. The prin- 
 ciple is this, that in a country like ours, you cannot 
 separate, as some try to do, the welfare of the 
 capitalist from that of the laborer. Why, what are 
 the capitalists themselves but laborers! Most of 
 those whom I know labor, so far as that word can 
 describe the condition, harder than many of their 
 employees. So far as they have passed into a state 
 in which they are not termed laborers, they have 
 done this on account of their own ability, diligence 
 and thrift. Yet simply because a man is a capi- 
 talist, there are some — a good many in the ranks of 
 our political opponents — who inveigh against him. 
 
302 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 "WTiy? Because he has shown ability, diligence and 
 thrift? Or is it because conditions in our country 
 are such as render it possible, as nowhere else, for 
 a man, by exercising these characteristics, to better 
 his condition? Do they mean to attack the insti- 
 tutions of our country, because they afford men 
 such opportunities? Or, in connection with that, 
 do they mean to insinuate that our country can get 
 along without its capitalists? Can it? Does his- 
 tory prove this? Do you recall who was, perhaps, 
 the country's greatest capitalist at the time of our 
 revolutionary war? I think that you must have 
 heard of him. His name was George Washington. 
 There was another capitalist of the same period, 
 Eobert Morris, the Philadelphia banker. He gave 
 his private fortune to keep the revolutionary gov- 
 ernment from bankruptcy. How is it to-day? Can 
 our country get along without its capitalists? Of 
 course there are some very mean ones, without 
 whom we should all like to get along. But how about 
 them as a class ? and it is as a class, remember, that 
 they have been made the subjects of these at- 
 tacks. 
 
 Is there anyone here ignorant of the fact that it 
 is upon the capitalists as a class that workingmen 
 are dependent for their work and wages? Some- 
 times it is not the capitalists but the corporations 
 that are attacked, and some of them undoubtedly 
 with justice. There are evils connected with all 
 things human. But, notwithstanding these evils, 
 I doubt whether one of you has ever heard of a 
 corporation that, in the degree in which it had be- 
 come great, had not increased both the wages of its 
 workingmen and the cheapness of its products. I 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 303 
 
 once looked over books containing the records for 
 more than thirty years of a manufactory. The 
 original investment had been not more than two 
 hundred and fifty thousand dollars. At the time 
 when I saw the books an English syndicate had 
 just offered the company for its various extensions, 
 all paid for out of its earnings, nine million dol- 
 lars. An enormous sum of money, you say, to be 
 made by a few capitalists! Wait! On the pay- 
 rolls of that company were thirty-three hundred 
 employees, supporting a population of ten thousand 
 people. All the employees were receiving much 
 more for the same kind of work than had been given 
 them when the factory had been started. Quite a 
 number of them — and fully half of these, I believe, 
 were women — were receiving seven dollars a day. 
 More than this: every time, in the history of the 
 company, that the directors had found that their 
 sales were paying a fair percentage in addition to 
 that needed for repairs and improvements, they 
 had lowered, before any outside demand had been 
 made for it, the prices of their products ; and every 
 time that they had lowered their prices, they had so 
 greatly increased the demand for their products, 
 and hence their output, that the cost of manufac- 
 turing each of them had been greatly decreased. 
 At the end of these thirty years, the price of the 
 products — and for fifty years before they had been 
 in demand in the country — was just one-twelfth 
 of what it had been when the factory started. It 
 seems to me, in view of such results, that the capi- 
 talists in the small Western city who had contrib- 
 uted, some one thousand and very few more than 
 fifteen thousand, to the original fund of the com- 
 
304 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 pany, had done enough good in that community to 
 earn their commission. 
 
 Moreover, it was, and is, just as legitimate for 
 them, or for other capitalists to rise through their 
 ability from the ranks of the comparatively poor to 
 take control and to make successes of these great 
 industrial interests, as it is for our statesmen, 
 through their ability, to rise from comparative ob- 
 scurity, and take control and make successes of 
 our State and National governments. Granted that 
 the president or the director of these corporations 
 receives a large amount of interest every year 
 from such an investment. The interest takes the 
 place of a salary. The President of the United 
 States, too, receives a large amount of money every 
 year as an actual salary. But, as a rule, the one 
 as well as the other deserves what he gets on ac- 
 count of the actual value of his services to the com- 
 munity. Think of the result if, instead of the pres- 
 ent natural system in our country, in accordance 
 with which individual men, because of their proved 
 ability, push to the front and become managers of 
 these great corporations, we should have socialism, 
 i.e., should Tammanyize our industries, and put 
 them in charge of those appointed by political offi- 
 cials, or elected by political parties, is it conceiv- 
 able that in a few years many of the companies 
 subjected to this sort of management would not ex- 
 perience financial failure, and have all their work- 
 men thrown out of employment? 
 
 In view of these considerations, the man who mis- 
 represents the relations of labor to capital, and 
 tries to excite the prejudices of the one against the 
 other fails either to know about the subject of which 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 305 
 
 he is talking, or else to talk what he knows. And, 
 gentlemen, such talk is being made just now in 
 advocacy of a scheme unmistakably directed— 
 whether intended or not — toward the accomplish- 
 ment of the very evil against which its advocates 
 are pretending to inveigh, — a scheme, I mean, di- 
 rected toward benefiting, with an utter disregard of 
 anyone else, a few capitalists; in other words, to- 
 ward benefiting — at the risk of a universal mone- 
 tary panic, of incalculable losses in savings and 
 wages, and in national honor — a few owners of 
 sUver mines. I do not, I cannot, believe that many of 
 the advocates of the scheme are conscious of exactly 
 what their action means. They have been misled; 
 but I do say this, that, so far as they are conscious 
 of it, any ordinary man, who wants to find phrases 
 through which to describe adequately their mean- 
 ness and hypocrisy, will have to wait till they all 
 together get into their own place in a future state 
 of existence, and begin to describe one another. 
 
 Nothing to an American, I think, ought to reveal 
 the wrong tendency of this attempt of which I have 
 been speaking, to separate the interest of the la- 
 boring men from those of the capitalists, more than 
 the fact that it has been followed, and is to-day ac- 
 companied, by an effort to discredit what most of 
 our countrymen, and many of the old world's pro- 
 foundest legal authorities deem the best instrument, 
 perhaps, ever devised to secure the rights not of 
 a few men considered separately, but of all men 
 considered conjointly, — I mean the Constitution of 
 the United States. What do you think of the wis- 
 dom, not to say patriotism, of a convention that 
 can pass a resolution threatening, as was publicly 
 
306 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 charged by a Democratic senator, and denied by no 
 one who heard the charge, to pack our Supreme Court 
 — as could easily be done by increasing its members 
 — in order to have its decrees conform to tempo- 
 rary partizan wishes ? What do you think of a prop- 
 osition — for this is exactly what it involves — that 
 Congress should dictate to that court what its de- 
 cisions must be, thus virtually nullifying the inten- 
 tions of the Constitution? According to it, as things 
 are now, a law, before it can be operative, must 
 pass Congress, be signed by the President, and, if 
 questioned, be approved by the Supreme Court. 
 Instead of this arrangement, designed to preserve 
 the welfare of the people by introducing a sufficient 
 number of checks to prevent hasty and ill-consid- 
 ered action, this convention practically advocated 
 rule by Congress and President alone. It went 
 further, and suggested, at least, rule by Congress 
 alone. It condemned our present President for 
 executing laws that it was his sworn duty to exe- 
 cute. As we all know, by making provision, at the 
 time of a strike, to guard the lines of transporta- 
 tion for the mails, he saved, perhaps, hundreds of 
 lives, and certainly hundreds of thousands of dol- 
 lar 's worth of property owned not by those against 
 whom any strikers whatever had grievances, but 
 by private individuals whose freight was loaded in 
 cars that were burning, and whose correspondence 
 was in mails that were delayed. And because he 
 did his duty, this convention censured him. It did 
 this in the hope thereby of gaining votes from these 
 laboring men again. I think that it mistook those 
 to whom it was trying to appeal. So far as I know 
 laboring men, they are not anxious to have any 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 307 
 
 more encouragement given than has already been 
 given in this country to the mob that oozes out 
 from the ginshop and the slum to discredit and 
 disgrace by its presence their own advance almost 
 every time that they start out on the serious errand 
 of a march toward higher wages. Almost invari- 
 ably, it is these camp-followers, trailing after them 
 and misrepresenting their purposes, that prevent 
 what otherwise might be a victory. If I under- 
 stand the laboring man he does not labor under the '' 
 delusion that any act of government merely de- 
 signed to keep this mob in its place is designed to 
 interfere with himself. He does not class himself 
 with its members; and the conventions or the 
 spokesmen of a convention who do class him thus, 
 show as little knowledge with reference to him as 
 I have already said that they show with reference 
 to the capitalist. 
 
 Laborers and capitalists, according to these 
 spokesmen — ^who seem to be able to separate the 
 two, tho I myself cannot — make up the entire com- 
 munity. So far as this is true, what has just been 
 said is equivalent to saying that these spokesmen 
 have very little knowledge of the community, — of 
 what it wants or of what it needs. What does it 
 want and need? I fancy that you will agree with 
 me in thinking that, as a rule, it wants and needs 
 that intellectual, rational and moral condition 
 which is termed civilization. The first condition 
 of civilization is obedience to law. Otherwise, of 
 course, there would be universal disorder and so 
 barbarism. Obedience to law is necessary even in 
 a free country. In such a country the government 
 says to a man, " Tou are free to do as you choose 
 
308 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 so long as you do not interfere with another man's 
 doing as he chooses. But there you must stop; 
 and the other man must stop in the same way when 
 he interferes with you." Of course, as you recog- 
 nize, it is difficult to tell always just where one's 
 action interferes with another's. Besides this, too, 
 it is impossible to let either of the men decide this 
 for himself. As a rule, he would be too preju- 
 diced in his own favor. It is necessary, therefore, 
 to bring in a third party, and let bim decide. In 
 most civilized communities, the functions of this 
 third party are exercised by the State. What we 
 term its laws are writings intended to indicate as 
 clearly as possible where different phases of inter- 
 ference occur. After these laws have been formu- 
 lated and passed, the peace, order or civilization of 
 a community depends upon the degree in which all 
 the people observe them. But some of them, you 
 say, may be imperfect or even unjust. Certainly; 
 and then they should be changed. In our country 
 there is provision for that; they always can be 
 changed. It may take a little time, and so one 
 must have a little patience; but, if he can persuade 
 the majority of the people to agree with him, he 
 can bring about the change. Until the laws have 
 been changed, however, civilization cannot con- 
 tinue except in the degree in which they are obeyed. 
 This is the reason why it is dangerous to censure 
 an executive who obeys them, or to incite a citizen 
 to disobey them. The logical effect of doing either 
 is to bring about, not reform but, revolution. Revo- 
 lution always entails loss of property and secu- 
 rity ; and when it takes place in a country where the 
 majority have the means of reforming laws without 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 309 
 
 revolution, it indicates a desire to act either with- 
 out consulting them at all, or without waiting to do 
 so. In either case it involves arbitrary disregard 
 of the majority's right to be heard. In a republic, 
 the demagog who leads to revolution, always, 
 through it, leads to despotism. 
 
 Of course, I recognize that none of our people 
 have any desire to bring about the result thus sug- 
 gested. I do not accuse them of such a desire; but 
 I do say that the principles actuating some of them 
 at present, if logically carried out, may lead to it. 
 I do say that there is danger, extreme danger, of 
 their forgetting the words of one of our wisest 
 statesmen, " Eternal vigilance is the price of lib- 
 erty." It is the duty of every man in a country 
 like ours to study the tendencies of political opin- 
 ions and actions, and to avoid those that point in 
 the direction of even possible danger. It is better 
 to be too cautious than not cautious at all. No man 
 exercises caution until he has taken time to think. 
 My effort, this evening, has been directed toward 
 getting you, if possible, to do this. In the degree 
 in which I have been successful, you will probably 
 agree with me when I say that, just now, many of 
 our people are in danger of disregarding those ex- 
 periences, personal, national and historical, from 
 which the world is accustomed to derive what, 
 whether formulated or not, are termed laws ; in dan- 
 ger of disregarding the laws of ordinary human in- 
 tercourse, in accordance with which no man deals 
 extensively with another unless he has confidence in 
 him ; of disregarding the laws of foreign commerce, 
 in accordance with which there can be no trade under 
 the best conditions unless there is an international 
 
310 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 standard of values and medium of exchange; of 
 disregarding tlie laws of domestic business, in ac- 
 cordance with which it is impossible to have pros- 
 perity without assurance of permanence in the 
 value of earnings and savings; and of disregarding 
 the laws of civilization, in accordance with which it 
 is impossible to have order and peace where the 
 executive is not sustained in the enforcement of ob- 
 ligation, and the judges are not lifted above the in- 
 fluence of partizanship, or of the untried experi- 
 ments of demagogic agitators. 
 
 Vote for the wrong candidate in this coming elec- 
 tion, and your boasted independence of Europeans 
 may prove to be the worst kind of dependence upon 
 them. You may have to buy what you get from 
 them through first buying gold from them at the 
 price which they themselves may chose to put upon 
 it. Their warranted lack of confidence in our peo- 
 ple may weigh down the market prices of our se- 
 curities by just as many of the millions of dollars 
 of investments as they can, at once, unload upon us. 
 Vote for the wrong candidate, and you may carry 
 down just as far the market value of the property 
 of our own capitalists. The absolutely universal 
 fear of this, on their part, whether living in New 
 York, Boston, St. Louis or Chicago, will, tmless 
 all the ordinary laws of business cease to operate, 
 bring on a panic such as our country has seldom 
 experienced. Vote for the wrong candidate, and, 
 both in Europe and this country you may check for 
 half a generation those contributions to commerce 
 and industry for which the enterprise and ingenu- 
 ity of this country are waiting as the rafts of , 
 woodmen in frozen rivers wait for the coming of 
 
NATIONAL PROBITY 311 
 
 the spring flood. Vote for the wrong candidate, 
 and you will do your best to ring down the curtain 
 upon that stage of human history upon which has 
 been enacted the most glorious and beneficent con- 
 tribution to civilization, to methods of govern- 
 ment, and to instrumentalities for promoting prog- 
 ress, commercial, industrial, educational, social 
 and religious, that, as many of us believe, the world 
 has ever seen ; yes, and you will do your best to pre- 
 pare the audience to go away congratulating itself 
 upon the fact that, at last, the farce is ovep. 
 
 Gentlemen, you dare not bring about such re- 
 sults. But there is only one way in which effect- 
 ually to prevent them. This is by voting for the 
 right candidate. Every man in his senses knows 
 that either he will be elected, or else the one whom I 
 have termed the wrong candidate. There is no 
 third possibility. I have the utmost respect for the 
 sound money Democrat in this campaign. He has 
 earned the respect of us all by his patriotic deter- 
 mination to put country above party. But let me 
 remind him that^ if he wish to be true to the very 
 highest promptings of this spirit, he must be more 
 than merely neutral. His very loyalty to what he 
 considers Democratic principles, should keep him 
 from being merely this. If, by any miscalculation 
 of the relative strength of the contending parties, 
 the wrong candidate should be elected, it will be 
 upon the sound money Democrats that the blame 
 will be laid. Can the party afford to have it laid 
 on them? I think that I am as good a Democrat as 
 Republican when I say " No." 
 
 "Oace to every man and nation comes the moment to decide 
 In the strife of truth and falsehood for the good or evil side; 
 
312 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 Some great cause, God's new Messiah offering each the bloom or 
 
 blight, 
 Parts the goats upon the left hand and the sheep upon the right, 
 And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light."* 
 
 Once again, as in 1861, our people seem to have 
 come to a parting of the ways. Is there any doubt 
 which course — that turning to the right or to the 
 left — should be taken by every patriotic citizen? 
 
 * The Present Crisis : J. K. Lowell. 
 
THE SOLDIER'S TESTIMONY TO THE 
 SPIRITUAL IN LIFE* 
 
 In our whole country, there is probably no place 
 in which, within equal limits, are the graves of so 
 many whose lives were influential in church and in 
 State as are in this cemetery. But of all the graves 
 that are here, none contain the remains of men 
 more worthy of the respect, the admiration, and 
 the gratitude of us all than the graves upon which 
 we are to leave our gathered flowers to-day. In the 
 Middle Ages, when the cry rang out from the fol- 
 lowers of the reformer of Asia, " There is no God 
 but God and Mohammed is his prophet, ' ' those who 
 marched behind the banner of the crescent held to 
 a belief that he who died in battle for a cause that 
 he had come to think divine, need give no other proof 
 of his spirit's right to heaven. Life is too com- 
 plex in its nature and environments — there are 
 too many different demands upon conscience and 
 intelligence — too many obligations to be met on 
 every side of us — too many aims to call forth 
 efforts entirely opposite in character, to allow us 
 to admit that the Mohammedan conception can be 
 safe or wise or true. And yet there is some truth, 
 — much truth in it. Think what life implies. Then 
 think what it implies deliberately to risk and lose 
 one's life — for others. Think of a man mailed in 
 
 * Delivered on Decoration Day, 1896, in Princeton Cemetery. Ee- 
 printed from the Princeton (N. J.) Press. 
 
314 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 the strength of youth and haloed by its hopes, with 
 every possibility of body or of mind intact, each 
 nerve and muscle thrilling with the glow of health. 
 Think of him surrounded by all the comforts of a 
 dearly treasured home, standing on the threshold 
 of a world where every pathway, whether leading 
 on to wort or to recreation, is echoing with words 
 of sympathy and is thronged with the forms of 
 friends, — of father, mother, sister, brother, sweet- 
 heart, wife or child; where every prospect holds 
 bright promises of recompense for peaceful, pleas- 
 urable effort, whose reflected light makes all exist- 
 ence luminous. Think of such a man, with full con- 
 sciousness of the sacrifice that it involves, resolving 
 to turn his back upon all this, to tear his hands away 
 from the clasp of friendship, to point his eyes away 
 from the smiles of love, and to tramp off toward 
 the din, the dust, the smoke, the toil, the weariness, 
 the suffering of war; going where he knows that 
 the chances are that he will come back never, or 
 never at least with a life as worth the living as the 
 life that he takes away with him; knowing that he 
 may die amid unspeakable agonies, perhaps, de- 
 serted on the flooded or the frozen plain, perhaps 
 amid confusion worse than that of hell, trampled 
 to a bleeding mass beneath the hoofs of chargers 
 or the heels of human beings raging with a fury 
 greater than that of which the brute is capable ; or, 
 if he escape all this, knowing that he naay bring 
 back home a body maimed or diseased, and a mind 
 for which the goals that once allured ambition rise 
 no more, because the paths that led to them were 
 left behind, when this more stony path, that led up 
 toward dark clouds alone and certain peril, was, 
 
THE SOLDIER AND THE SPIRITUAL 315 
 
 with a tremBling body but a thrilling soul, deliber- 
 ately chosen as the one most worthy of his manhood. 
 Gentlemen of the Grand Army of the Eepublic, I 
 don't wonder that you and your children, and your 
 children's children are proud of your old blue uni- 
 forms. No wonder if their faded color seem 
 brighter to your eyes than all the blue with which 
 the heaven itself can paint its dome above us ! No 
 wonder if the dead faint scent of smoke that lingers 
 in them be more grateful to your senses than all 
 the fragrance that can come from all the buds and 
 blossoms where, in this glad month of May, the 
 heaven has joined with earth to kindle to new glow 
 the fires of life on what were but a short time since 
 the white and frozen altars of the winter! This 
 heaven and earth, — they are material. That which 
 your uniforms enclosed in those grand days of old 
 was spiritual. Whatever may have been the gen- 
 eral tenor of your lives, the fact that you once vol- 
 unteered to wear that uniform is a proof that there 
 has been for you, one time, at least, when the aspi- 
 rations of the soul sat throned above the allure- 
 ments of the senses; one time when you put duty 
 over ease, conscience over inclination, the welfare 
 of others over the interests of self; one time when 
 you rose into full fellowship with Him, according 
 to whose conception, " Greater love hath no man 
 than this, that a man lay down his life for his 
 friend "; aye, one time, when, if not in as great a 
 degree, in as true a sense, as He did, you proved 
 the existence of a life higher than that of earth. 
 Not by your words, not in a way, perhaps, of which 
 even you yourselves were conscious, nevertheless 
 you proved it — in the surest way possible — by the 
 
316 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 manifestation of its promptings in your deeds. 
 What is a country and its institutions for, except 
 to further the safety — physical, mental, spiritual — 
 the safety of life? And a man, who down deep in 
 his soul believes that this little life on earth is all 
 — the matter of supreme importance — when his 
 country is endangered, — what will he do? Fight 
 for it, risk his life for it? die for it? Never. He 
 will fly to another country, where all that seems 
 to him of supreme importance can be preserved. 
 
 So from the history of our war of the secession, 
 waged especially as that was, mainly by volunteers, 
 waged for old conditions and the establishment of 
 new ones believed to be essential to the welfare of 
 humanity both white and black, — from that history 
 I derive a lesson not only patriotic but religious. 
 It is a lesson, too, that needs to be recalled by just 
 such services as we are having here to-day. I 
 should be the last to criticize unduly anything fitted 
 to make the outward expression of the inner prog- 
 ress of our country more complete, more in accord 
 with the requirements of refinement, of taste, of 
 beauty. But when you spend too much of thought 
 and labor strengthening and ornamenting that 
 which, after all, is but the scaffolding of life, there 
 is danger that, when the next storm comes, which 
 only the structure within the scaffolding can with- 
 stand, it will not be easy to induce the people, or, 
 if induced, to enable them, to level the scaffolding 
 until after its flying splinters have made a wreck of 
 everything about it. It was the " plain living and 
 high thinking " of the generations before the war 
 that gave us Lincoln and his volunteers. In the 
 next emergency, will the high living of our own day 
 
THE SOLDI EB AND THE SPIRITUAL 317 
 
 and tlie thinking, in many regards — as shown, for 
 instance, in so much of our literature — upon the 
 lowest plain conceivable, give anything to match 
 them? Not, certainly, unless you and I, by our in- 
 fluence, do all we can to counteract some tendencies 
 among us the trend of which is unmistakable, ten- 
 dencies foreign to the whole character of our insti- 
 tutions, tendencies as old as sin and always active, 
 but never so progressively active as in our own 
 country to-day. Fifty years ago, if I had spoken 
 of them, you would have failed to recognize the 
 justice of my allusions. To-day you will all recog- 
 nize it. They are the tendencies that cause us, in 
 domestic life, to care more for the house than for 
 the home; in institutional life, more for buildings 
 than for instruction ; in influential life, more for cere- 
 mony than for service; in public life, more for po- 
 sition than for purity ; in private life, more for style 
 than for soul; in social life, more for the four hun- 
 dred than for the seventy million; in active life, 
 more for expediency than for duty; in religious 
 life, more for preaching than for practising; in 
 short, in every relation, more for everything per- 
 taining to apparent form than for anything per- 
 taining to the hidden spirit, more for every whim 
 of man than for any law of God. 
 
 The countries of the Old World, the customs and 
 notions of which some of our people are trying so 
 hard to imitate, can prosper, perhaps, even when 
 such tendencies as these become supreme. For the 
 direct purpose of fostering and furthering them, 
 many of the institutions of those countries were 
 founded. But our institutions were founded for a 
 different purpose; and to them such tendencies, 
 
318 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 made supreme, might prove fatal. Our institutions 
 were derived from a conception of the Spiritual 
 Fatherhood of God, and therefore, of the brother- 
 hood of man. 
 
 Our forefathers believed that it was the duty of 
 every one, when considering private action or pub- 
 lic policy, to think not of himself alone but also of 
 others. This is the reason why they agreed to tax 
 all the people, whether having children or not, 
 whether patronizing private schools or not, in or- 
 der that there might be schools in which the chil- 
 dren of the poorest might be educated freely. This 
 is the reason why they agreed to tax all the people 
 not only for general public improvement, but for 
 special commercial enterprise and industrial devel- 
 opment, — because they believed that this would add 
 to the opportunities, wages, wealth, and through 
 these, to the domestic, intellectual, social and moral 
 elevation of all the country's inhabitants. 
 
 Other nations may claim that with them patriot- 
 ism and religion go hand in hand. But when we 
 consider that the essence of religion is the acknowl- 
 edging — not in words but ia deeds — of the Father- 
 hood of God and the brotherhood of man, of what 
 nation can this claim be maintained with more truth 
 than of ours? Therefore, as we leave our flowers 
 to-day upon the graves of these, our comrades, 
 brothers, husbands, fathers, friends, let us believe, 
 with grateful hearts, that the good and wise God 
 is as good and wise, at least, as we are; and that 
 on the right side of the balance sheet of the Ee- 
 cording Angel, He as well as we can find, with ref- 
 erence to them, much that never can be blotted out. 
 They did what they could — let us go forth from 
 
THE SOLDIER AND THE 8PIBITVAL 319 
 
 here resolved to do wliat we can — to make our coun- 
 try that which our fathers hoped that it might be- 
 come, — not a place in which a man, living for him- 
 self alone, would not be ashamed to exult in his own 
 intellectual, financial, social superiority; but, rather 
 a place worth loving, in which, giving a hand to 
 each of his fellows, every one would do his best to 
 lift them to a level with himself, recognizing that all 
 that elevation of any kind is worth is attained 
 alone in the degree in which there is a general at- 
 mosphere of high attainment ; recognizing that if a 
 man ever have any little glory of his own, he can 
 realize its most gratifying rewards and its grandest 
 possibilities in the degree alone in which, like the 
 glory of the sun in heaven, it brings universal day 
 and is reflected everywhere. 
 
THE CITY THAT VANISHED AND THE 
 
 CITIZENSHIP THAT SURVIVED: THE 
 
 GREAT FIRE IN CHICAGO* 
 
 Forty years ago a few miles northwest of the 
 southern extremity of Lake Michigan there stood a 
 small fort. It was rudely tho strongly constructed 
 of logs felled from woods farther to the north, and 
 was intended to protect the few white traders of the 
 neighborhood against incursions of Indians. Aside 
 from the circumstance of the presence of this fort, 
 there was little to attract anyone to the locality. 
 On one side were the level waters of Lake Michi- 
 gan, and on the other side an equally level stretch 
 of prairie with no undulations and few trees to af- 
 ford variety to the landscape. The colds of winter 
 were severe in the extreme, and often, for days to- 
 gether, the winds were terrific in their violence. 
 The ground upon which the settlement stood rose 
 but four feet above the surface of the lake ; and the 
 inlet near by that afforded the only harbor for the 
 trading vessels of the day was little more than a 
 hundred feet in width, had no perceptible current, 
 and, at no great distance from its mouth, held 
 scarcely more water than might suffice for the safe 
 navigation of an ordinary yawl. Most unpromising 
 surroundings certainly for those of a great commer- 
 
 * Delivered by request after a return to the East from a visit to 
 that city during the week following the fire. 
 
TEE CHICAGO FIBE 321 
 
 cial metropolis ! Had not subsequent developments 
 evinced the sagacity of the engineers who, in first 
 locating the fort, discerned in its position the key 
 of this whole western country, one might be tempted 
 to surmise that the site had been chosen mainly 
 from promptings of caution or of cowardice — as one 
 the possession of which would not be likely to be 
 disputed by the unfriendly Indians. At all events, 
 these had already afforded a significant protest 
 against any inclination on their part to frequent 
 the locality by giving to it the name of Chicago, ' ' the 
 place of a skunk," as it was formerly translated, 
 tho, of late, it has been said to mean "the place of 
 the wild onion." Neither interpretation, appar- 
 ently, need rob the word of its suggestiveness. 
 
 Nevertheless, in the inauspicious setting in which 
 the untutored savage saw little for himself, the 
 civilized man discovered his opportunity. The 
 traders multiplied, and, before many years the 
 thinly-populated outpost had become a town; and 
 it had been discovered that the treeless prairies 
 to the west of it which had once been supposed to be 
 well-nigh barren were covered with a soil free from 
 root or rock which a single plowing could turn into 
 the fertilest of farms. In 1840, the town contained 
 over four thousand inhabitants; in 1850 over 
 twenty-eight thousand; in 1860 over a hundred 
 thousand; and in 1871 over three hundred thou- 
 sand; while during the same period, the assessed 
 value of property had risen from scarcely four 
 thousand dollars to the neighborhood of three hun- 
 dred millions. 
 
 Situated as the city is, surrounded by luxurious 
 agricultural possibilities, at the head of the waters 
 
322 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 of Lake Michigan, where not only the extensive in- 
 land navigation of the country begins, but where 
 also, owing to the fact that the lake extends from 
 the northern borders of the country far southward, 
 most of the northern routes by land from the east 
 must concentrate in order to move on toward the 
 west and northwest, it may be said, of course, 
 that this rapid development has been due to natural 
 advantages of position. But it is not to be ascribed 
 to these alone. The natural and acquired character 
 of the people of the place has had much to do with 
 it. The early settlers were very largely from New 
 England; and they carried with them the intelli- 
 gence and the enterprise of New England. Almost 
 as soon as the place had a name on a map, it had 
 public and private schools, the latter, at least, 
 abundantly qualified to fit young men for Eastern 
 colleges. Scarcely waiting for financial help from 
 the capitalists of New York, the members of this 
 frontier community had connected Lake Michigan 
 and the Illinois River by canal ; and, starting to sell 
 railway stock at five dollars a share, had made their 
 city a center of railway traffic to the west some 
 time before a single railway had touched it from 
 the east. 
 
 But besides inheriting energy from a New Eng- 
 land stock, the place seems to have possest, as a 
 blessing, or otherwise, as one may choose to deem 
 it, a climate peculiarly fitted to develop activity in 
 the nerves and brain. In Spain, the courts are said 
 to acquit a prisoner of even a charge of murder 
 when that which incited to it has accompanied the 
 blowing of a certain wind. In Chicago a wind 
 seems to be always blowing either from the land or 
 
THE CHICAGO FIBE 323 
 
 from the lake ; and as the whole region is absolutely- 
 level, there seems nothing to prevent what might be 
 a breeze in other conditions from hurrying by in 
 the form, almost, of a hurricane. It may not be 
 scientific, but it gratifies fancy, to surmise that the 
 cutting nature of these blasts may have had some- 
 thing to do with the whittling off of certain grosser, 
 more lethargic elements of character, which, in 
 other places, would remain, and render these same 
 people less fitting instruments than they have 
 proved themselves to be in furthering the progress 
 of the nation. 
 
 By the year 1871 the city had become — and all 
 acknowledged it — the most prosperous in the coun- 
 try. Its streets were wide; its business houses 
 were substantially built of brick, stone or iron from 
 four to six stories in height; and its residence dis- 
 tricts stretched away for miles on avenues lined, as 
 a rule, with trees, behind which, usually upon wide 
 lawns, built in the multitudinous variety of styles 
 always characterizing American architecture, were 
 hundreds of comfortable homes, and some luxuri- 
 ously elegant. The city was situated, as has been 
 said, on the western shore of Lake Michigan at a 
 point where it is entered by what is termed the 
 Chicago Eiver. This is a small stream, made 
 deeper and larger by constant dredging, now per- 
 haps three hundred feet in width, extending about 
 a mile due west from the lake. At this point it is 
 fed by two branches, one flowing from the north, 
 and the other from the south, and both of them 
 very nearly parallel to the lake. This conformation 
 naturally divides the city into three sections — the 
 North Side, as it is called, bounded by the lake on 
 
324 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 the east, by the main river on the south, and by the 
 north branch on the west; the South Side, bounded 
 by the lake on the east, by the main river on the 
 north, and by the south branch on the west ; and the 
 West Side, including everything west of either the 
 north or the south branch. In growing, the city had 
 naturally clustered about the river and its branches. 
 Over these had been built many bridges and under 
 them two tunnels, and on all sides were wharves for 
 the shipping, upon which were many large ware- 
 houses and grain elevators. The North Side was 
 mainly filled with residences; the South Side con- 
 tained the main business section, tho south of this 
 there was also a residential district; and the West 
 Side contained most of the factories and the homes 
 of the people who worked in them. 
 
 A word now as to the construction of the city. 
 Owing to the immense forests of Wisconsin and 
 Michigan, Chicago had already become the greatest 
 lumber market in the world. Moreover, few quar- 
 ries of building stone and little clay from which 
 to make bricks had been discovered in the immedi- 
 ate neighborhood. Very naturally, therefore, as in 
 the case of Constantinople, which is famous for its 
 great fires, a large number of the buildings of the 
 city, probably seven-tenths of all of them, were con- 
 structed of wood; and this in every portion of 
 the city except that devoted exclusively to busi- 
 ness. Some of the most expensive residences, too, 
 were of the same material, their builders imag- 
 ining such houses to be warmer and more dry 
 than those of brick or of stone. Even where these 
 latter materials had been employed, in many in- 
 stances they were ornamented by elaborately molded 
 
THE CHICAGO FIRE 325 
 
 wooden cornices, and were roofed witli shingles. 
 Of course, the city authorities had not been so reck- 
 less of the danger of conflagration as not to make 
 laws prescribing certain fire limits. But the effi- 
 cacy of such laws had been evaded, first, by these 
 wooden cornices which, even where they had fallen 
 into disuse in the business blocks, had been fol- 
 lowed by almost equally dangerous mansard 
 wooden roofs, covered with slate; and, second, by 
 a custom in vogue in the city of never tearing down 
 a wooden building where the ground upon which it 
 stood was needed for better buildings, but of mov- 
 ing it through the streets to some less desirable place 
 in order there to refit and rent it. So to-day, for in- 
 stance, if one in mature life wants to find his birth- 
 place in Chicago, it is more than likely that he will 
 be obliged to tramp about its streets to three or 
 four different localities, and, when at last, he has 
 come upon the house, it may require a very subtle 
 argument with himself to lead him to decide 
 whether or not he has been successful. If exceed- 
 ingly anxious to be so, he may find himself almost 
 as badly off as a swaggering, swearing fellow who 
 walked into a sleeping-car where a friend of mine 
 was vainly trying to get a night's rest. " Now what 
 is the matter with you? " said my friend. " I have 
 lost my berth," cried the other with an oath. 
 " Lost your berth? " said my friend. " I should 
 think that you had. One thing, at least, is very evi- 
 dent — you are one of those that need to be born 
 again." This custom of removing wooden build- 
 ings from one part even of the fire district to an- 
 other, until the poorer portions of the city literally 
 were packed full of them, will show how the very 
 
326 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 construction of the place liad a tendency to cause a 
 fire such as broke out there on the 18th of October, 
 1871. 
 
 The flames that first attracted the attention of 
 the firemen issued from a barn in the West Side. 
 It was about a mile south of the main river, and a 
 mile and a half west of the lake, near the corner of 
 Twelfth and DeKoven streets. The barn may have 
 been set on fire by an incendiary; but is said to 
 have followed the overturning of a kerosene lamp 
 when kicked by a cow. The subsequent disastrous 
 results seem to have been owing to a combination 
 of exceptional circumstances. On the night preced- 
 ing, one of the greatest previous fires in the history 
 of Chicago had occurred in the same neighborhood ; 
 and, through it, the people in the vicinity and the 
 whole fire department of the city had become un- 
 usually exhausted. The houses adjoining the barn 
 where the fire started, and, in fact, all the houses of 
 the surrounding district were of wood, and stood 
 very close together. One, at least, was an exten- 
 sive planing mill ; and many were large factories and 
 taverns. There had been no rain for two months, 
 and a gale was blowing from the southwest. So 
 the flames spread rapidly. But fortunately, as it 
 seemed, a few blocks distant, in the very direction 
 in which the wind was carrying the cinders was the 
 space that had been rendered vacant by the fire of 
 the evening previous. Supposing that the flames 
 would stop here, as a matter of course, the firemen 
 after vainly battling with them in front, contented 
 themselves with going to the rear of the fire and 
 checking its progress to the south and west. But 
 before long, what was their amazement to find that 
 
TEE CHICAGO FIBE 327 
 
 a new conflagration had broken out beyond this 
 space, not only, but beyond the river on the south 
 side; and that, too, in one of the most dangerous 
 localities in the entire city, — the very next door to 
 the gas works. All about these gas works also the 
 streets and alleys were crowded with wooden build- 
 ings; and, before long, the wind was carrying, with 
 all the force of a hurricane, cinders, not only, but 
 huge burning planks and beams, and raining them 
 down in its course, dashing a very storm of flame 
 against the best built business portion of the city. 
 
 The cupola of the Court House caught fire from 
 these beams long before they had affected any of 
 the buildings facing the square in which it stood. 
 And so strong was the force of the gale that a large 
 brewery and the adjoining city water-works, cov- 
 ered unfortunately with a shingle roof, which were 
 a mile and a half further to the northeast, caught 
 fire and were consumed before one-fourth of the 
 business blocks upon the south side. What was to 
 become of a city burning in the night whose water- 
 works and gas-works had both been destroyed? 
 
 Of course, as soon as the flames were discovered 
 in the business portion of the city, there was a rush 
 across the river on the part of many of the citizens 
 and of such of the fire department as could be 
 spared from the west side. But some of the bridges 
 were burning; others were impassable from the 
 falling cinders; the lights in the crowded tunnels 
 had gone out; and a long detour seemed unavoid- 
 able. When the fire department did reach the 
 south side, the foremost crests of the waves of 
 flame appeared to be flooding over untouched por- 
 tions of the brick and granite blocks actually faster 
 
328 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 than a man could walk. The wind acting as a blowr 
 pipe upon the flames had forced them to a heat so 
 intense that, at a distance of a hundred yards, men 
 would be coiled up and drop dead like bugs about 
 a candle; and across streets eighty or a hundred 
 feet in width, the tin coverings of roofs would roll 
 up like paper, and iron shutters would warp visibly 
 and crack apart. A friend told me that in order 
 to get a view of the fire, he drove toward it ia 
 a carriage some four hundred yards in a street in 
 which there were no signs of heat, and then, turning 
 immediately to drive back, was able to do so only at 
 the risk of his life. Many instances are cited in 
 which horses and drivers were overtaken where, a 
 moment before, there seemed to be no danger, and 
 burned to death. People moving in carriages and 
 wagons in the direction of the wind — tho this must 
 have been owing largely to the blocking of the 
 streets — found themselves unable to increase the 
 distance between themselves and the flames. A man 
 standing on one side of a park at least four hun- 
 dred feet square, at a time, too, when the buildings 
 on the opposite side in the direction of the fire were 
 not as yet burning, told me that he saw cinders and 
 coals poured into the entrance to the stairway of 
 a six-story fireproof building which seemed to ig- 
 nite it as readily as if made of shavings. Of course, 
 anyone in the upper stories of such a building 
 would have had no chance to escape. On the north 
 side, in the residence portion of the city, the fires 
 seem to have burst out from scores of different lo- 
 calities at the same moment. One merchant who, 
 in the early part of the night, had come to the South 
 Side in order to remove goods of great value, was 
 
THE CHICAGO FIRE 329 
 
 startled, suddenly, to see a light coming from tlie 
 direction of his own home which, up to this time, 
 he had never supposed could be in danger. Hurry- 
 ing back, he was obliged to turn up his coat collar 
 and draw down his hat to shield himself from the 
 rain of cinders; and when he reached his house, 
 altho the main conflagration was a mile away, 
 through his front door as he opened it, the coals 
 swept threatening to set fire to the hall before he 
 could remove his family. 
 
 The suffering among these people, on this North 
 Side, as may readily be imagined, was intense. I 
 know of a citizen and his wife, both nearly seventy 
 years of age, living in a place occupying an entire 
 square, who were roused and ready to escape only 
 after every house surrounding them, and the wooden 
 fence about their own place, were in flames. At the 
 peril of their lives; and after burning themselves 
 so seriously that at the time that I write they have 
 not yet recovered, they managed to tear down the 
 fence in one place to such an extent as to be able 
 to jump over it. One man, just before the greatest 
 fall of cinders, came home stupefied by the fact that 
 his store and all his fortune were gone. He said to 
 his wife, ' ' "Who knows but our home may go next ? ' ' 
 She looked almost immediately from the window to 
 discover that their barn was already on fire, and 
 the new misfortune so paralyzed him that she was 
 obliged literally by main force to drag him to the 
 street. To illustrate the haste in which some were 
 driven from their dwellings, many cases are men- 
 tioned of houses in which corpses were left behind 
 and burned. In a German family near the river, 
 there was a grandmother lying at the point of death. 
 
330 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 After a hurried consultation, as it was found im- 
 possible to remove her, to save her from death by 
 burning, she was bundled up and thrown into the 
 river. 
 
 To understand the peril of the situation in the 
 resident-section of the North Side, one must take 
 into consideration that all the fire department and 
 the city authorities and a quarter of its male inhabi- 
 tants were on the other side of the city excluded 
 from this fated district by the river, all the bridges 
 over which were burning. Besides the fires were 
 not confined to one place. They were breaking out 
 and blocking up the streets in every direction; and 
 all except those very near the north branch of the 
 river, were obliged to fly in front of the flames 
 which, as was said before, pursued almost as rap- 
 idly as they themselves could move. 
 
 There were two courses that these people could 
 take: One of them was to the north. Toward this 
 a few rode in their carriages; but the majority, of 
 course, went on foot. In the earlier part of the 
 night, some who moved in this direction tried to 
 save their household goods. Express wagons and 
 drays, hired at most exorbitant prices, ranging 
 from twenty to a thousand dollars, were driven one 
 or two miles beyond where the fire was, and emptied. 
 When the fire approached, sometimes there was a 
 new removal to a place beyond. But even this was 
 ineffective. Before Monday noon the flames had 
 again approached. When, at last, the fugitives 
 reached the city limits, all seemed to despair of sav- 
 ing anything; they fled in consternation, while be- 
 hind them, like a scourge, the flames swept crack- 
 ling. As the crowds sped on, friends jostled off from 
 
TEE CHICAGO FIRE 331 
 
 friends, and children from parents ; and, when once 
 apart, the cinders that had covered face and cloth- 
 ing rendered most attempts to recognize each other 
 futile. All day Monday the roads leading north 
 were choked with the affrighted mnltitnde. Twenty- 
 four hours later, six, eight and ten miles distant 
 on the prairie, delicate women and aged men, ac- 
 customed to all comforts, were picked up, one by 
 one, half starved and frozen, some clothed only in 
 the garments of the night. Some, too, were dead, 
 and some demented. One woman was found hold- 
 ing a Bible, all that she had saved. One little child, 
 in night clothes, fast asleep, was hugging closely 
 to her kitten. So completely had this portion of 
 the city been demoralized, that more than one ac- 
 count is given of families who lived beyond the 
 limits of the fire, returning after a whole day and 
 night spent in the cold and famine of the prairie, 
 to discover that, after all, their homes had been 
 uninjured. 
 
 As was said there were two courses for the peo- 
 ple on this North Side to take in escaping from the 
 fire. Instead of flying north, some sought the 
 borders of the lake. In any ordinary fire they 
 would have been secure here, for its sands stretch 
 many yards away from any buildings. But this 
 fire was not an ordinary one. Whatever house- 
 hold goods the people stored on the lake shore were 
 burned; and those who were guarding them were 
 forced into the water, all the surface of which 
 seemed to blaze at times with cinders. An aged 
 couple, both of whom were cripples, remained in 
 the water thus for twenty-three hours, and with- 
 out food. One family fled beyond the sands and 
 
332 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 over a long pier till they reached the light-house. 
 After a time the flames set fire to the pier, but were 
 extinguished. Then a burning steamer floated to- 
 ward them. Just in time to be saved from being 
 roasted alive they managed to signal a small steam- 
 tug. The wind was blowing a gale. They dared 
 not venture on the lake. Nothing seemed left but 
 to attempt to go up the river. They shut them- 
 selves in the cabin and started. Should they en- 
 counter a single obstacle to check them, the little 
 steamer would burst into flames. Fortunately that 
 was not to be. Tho its sides were often scorched 
 and smoking, they passed throv.gh the smoulder- 
 ing lines of wharves and bridges till they reached a 
 place of safety. 
 
 While all this had been going on upon the North 
 Side of the river, on the South Side, there had 
 been less of consternation and loss of life, perhaps, 
 but far greater destruction of material wealth. All 
 the first-class hotels, all the banks, all the public 
 halls and libraries, all the wholesale mercantile 
 houses and all the large retail houses were in 
 ashes; and the flames were fast consuming the 
 beautiful residences adjacent to the lake. Only the 
 blowing up of several of these by the orders of 
 Gen. Sheridan prevented the conflagration from 
 becoming general. On this side of the river, few 
 of the household goods in the residences burned 
 escaped destruction. In front of the portion of the 
 city on the shore of the lake, a mile in length and 
 about a quarter of a mile in width, extends Lake 
 Park. On Monday morning the extreme edge of 
 this park nearest to the water appeared crowded 
 with effects which men had toiled all the night to 
 
THE CHICAGO FIBE 333 
 
 remove from their shops and houses. Before Mon- 
 day evening almost every shred of these rescued 
 effects had been consumed ; and those who had been 
 watching them had escaped only at the risk of their 
 lives. 
 
 On this south side, too, the fires spread with 
 great rapidity. A lady of my acquaintance whose 
 husband was away from home felt so secure that 
 she had sent her servant and a little son a mile 
 away to purchase dinner. Twenty minutes later 
 friends rushed in to inform her that the course of 
 the fire had shifted, and that she must leave the 
 house at once. Begging them to save what they 
 could, she rushed upstairs to pack her silver. In 
 her house was one of the choicest libraries in the 
 city, and a large collection of relics and curios, ar- 
 ticles of small bulk but great value, — just the things 
 that one would suppose to be fitted to be success- 
 fully removed in such a time of haste. But what 
 did her friends save? I found them in my father's 
 barn when I reached home: a few items of heavy 
 parlor furniture; besides this two mirrors, one of 
 them, of course, broken; then all the globes of the 
 chandeliers which had been carefully unscrewed 
 and taken off, a work of considerable time; lastly, 
 the chandeliers themselves violently detached from 
 the ceiling, and bent beyond all probability of 
 mending. 
 
 This fire, like everything else, had its comic side. 
 I heard of a lady who seems to have entertained a 
 notion of converting the whole experience of the 
 jarring and jam of the escape through the streets 
 into a delicate feat of jugglery. She chose as the 
 only relic to save from her home, balancing it 
 
334 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 skilfully for miles through the crowd, a glass vase 
 filled with water and gold fish. Others carried their 
 canary birds, children their toys, and if one were 
 brushed from their hands of course would imperil 
 the lives of whole parties in their efforts to re- 
 cover it. One fugitive very prominent, and justly 
 so, in the city and State, but reputed to be slightly 
 prone to self -appreciation, is said to have been seen 
 galloping away on horse-back, dragging behind 
 him as his one most valuable possession, a full- 
 length portrait of himself. It is only justice to the 
 man, however, to finish the story by giving his own 
 explanation of it, — it was the only thing under his 
 roof that, if he took it through the crowd, somebody 
 would not try to steal from him. For plenty of 
 stealing there was in every part of the city. Men 
 would walk into houses far in advance of the flames, 
 open drawers, and wrap up goods, as tho to save 
 them for the family, and then take them off for 
 themselves. Silver and paintings committed to ex- 
 press men were never delivered. Jewels and treas- 
 ures that were buried experienced a resurrection 
 long before their owners returned to recover them. 
 A merchant hurried to his front doorstep with a 
 small trunk. ' ' I will give five hundred dollars, ' ' he 
 cried, " to anyone who will keep this for me for a 
 moment." " I will," said a man nearby, and he 
 has kept it faithfully ever since. But instances of 
 contrary conduct are reported, too. A broker 
 rushed to his safe, and took out a small chest con- 
 taining sixty thousand dollars. He was on his knees 
 before it, and, as he turned about to rise, he saw 
 looming behind him the form of a gigantic negro. 
 The broker was alone, at the stranger's mercy. In a 
 
THE CHICAGO FIBE 335 
 
 quick-witted effort to save his life, lie turned to tlie 
 man and said, "I will give you a thousand dollars 
 to take this to the Northwestern Railway Station." 
 The flames were approaching ; and, in the confusion 
 of the moment after giving up the box, contrary to 
 his intention, he lost sight of the man. The next 
 day he went to the railway station and found the 
 box and its contents untouched. 
 
 In order to save from greater loss there was 
 often a sacrifice of lesser valuables. "When the water 
 gave out, one man emptied the contents of his cellar 
 and deluged the blankets on his roof with cider. As 
 the flames retired, the assembled party are said to 
 have caroled as a victorious psean, " a little more 
 cider." Sometimes, as everywhere else in this 
 world, people lost themselves and their all for the 
 sake of their earthly possessions. A lady was found 
 dead clasping her jewels. A woman who had 
 reached the street with two children rushed back 
 after her money-box. Her children followed, and 
 all perished. More people, however, for the sake 
 of their own and others' lives, lost everything else. 
 One weak woman with a little child behind her 
 rushed from a house with a small but valuable 
 clock in one hand and a silver cake-basket in the 
 other. Finding her strength failing and the flames 
 approaching, she hailed an expressman and begged 
 him to let her ride. ' ' Yes, for the clock, ' ' he said, 
 and she gave it. After waiting a while, " I must 
 have the basket, too," he added; and she gave that 
 also. " What have you saved? " a man asked a 
 friend of mine. ' ' My two children, ' ' was the answer. 
 
 And there are hundreds and thousands, and one 
 could almost say hundreds of thousands, in that city 
 
336 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 to-day who esteem themselves fortunate the they 
 saved, at that time, no more than this, — their own 
 lives and those of their families. Eighty thousand 
 people are known to have lived on the north side of 
 the river, in the district which, with the exception 
 of a single house, was swept clean of habitations; 
 and, certainly, twenty thousand more were rendered 
 homeless by the fires upon the South and West 
 sides. It is said that more than three hundred 
 people must have lost their lives, and two thousand 
 acres is the lowest estimate of the extent of the 
 conflagration. Besides the twenty-two thousand 
 dwellings swept away, the following structures are 
 enumerated : seventy church edifices and halls where 
 regular religious services were held; thirty banks, 
 twenty-three brokers' offices, forty hotels, three 
 railroad passenger stations, three freight stations, 
 four telegraph offices, four express offices, eighty- 
 eight offices of newspapers, twelve of magazines, 
 five public libraries, eleven public and nine private 
 school buildings, fifteen colleges, seminaries or 
 academies ; six hospitals, seven asylums, fifty livery 
 stables, eight bridges, twelve mills and elevators, 
 two gas manufactories, five lumber yards; found- 
 ries, planing mills, factories and machine shops to 
 the number of forty or fifty; three theaters, one 
 museum, one opera house, four steamboat docks, 
 two shipyards and half a dozen breweries and dis- 
 tilleries. 
 
 The loss in money including certainly two-thirds 
 of all the property of the city with most of the in- 
 surance upon it is variously estimated as from two 
 to three hundred millions of dollars.* The only 
 
 * Estimated to-day at about one hundred and ninety millions. 
 
TEE CHICAGO FIBE 337 
 
 conflagrations of modern times that, at all, com- 
 pare with this are those of London in 1666 and of 
 Moscow in 1812. Probably, in both these disasters, 
 more persons were rendered houseless than in Chi- 
 cago. But owing to the compact manner in which 
 those other cities were built, and the inferior nature 
 of the buildings, the extent of territory burned over, 
 and the loss in dwellings and property were much 
 less. The great fire in London devastated only 
 about three hundred and thirty-six instead of two 
 thousand acres ; and neither in London nor in Mos- 
 cow are the losses in property estimated to have 
 amounted to more than seventy millions of dollars. 
 But, of course, when we compare this loss with that 
 at Chicago, we must take into consideration the fact 
 that the same amount of money represented far 
 more wealth formerly than at present. 
 
 "Will Chicago soon recover from the effects of this 
 fire? A few think not, but most people think the 
 contrary.* " Let me pass," cried a man excitedly 
 rushing by a crowd of loungers at a railway sta- 
 tion at Saint Louis. It was the Monday night after 
 the Chicago fire. " What is your hurry! " asked 
 a bystander. " I want to see the ruins of Chicago," 
 answered he; "and I must take this train. If I 
 miss it the city will be built again before I get 
 there. ' ' 
 
 * This paper is printed as it was prepared at the time. To-day, 
 thirty-nine years later, it may be said that the city was practically 
 rebuilt within two years. Moreover, owing to the demand for new 
 objects to replace such as had been destroyed, most of those in ac- 
 tive business at the time of the fire greatly increased their earnings. 
 On the contrary many of those who had retired from business, and 
 were living on their investments, especially if in insurance companies, 
 or in real estate a little remote from the business center the ground 
 of which they were obliged to mortgage before they could rebuild, 
 were found, after a few years, to have lost virtually everything. 
 
338 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 This expression with all its Western exaggera- 
 tion suggests a far-off flavor of truth. I myself 
 left Philadelphia for Chicago where I had relatives 
 and real estate that seemed to demand my presence 
 on the day following the fire. When I reached my 
 destination, thirty-six hours later, I found quite a 
 numher of temporary wooden buildings already com- 
 pleted; one, I remember, that, in the circumstances 
 tempted humor by its incongruity; it was not only 
 clapboarded and shingled according to the best ap- 
 proved styles of workmanship, but also finished off 
 with gingerbread-work at the gables. Another had 
 been painted. Many of the parks were well-nigh 
 covered with temporary sheds for the homeless. 
 And at one of the railways, a station with platform, 
 ticket oflSce, baggage and waiting rooms, all fin- 
 ished in two days, furnished shelter to weary pas- 
 sengers. Before the end of the week, several large 
 warehouses, two or three hundred feet square, and 
 two stories in height, were nearly ready for occu- 
 pation; eighteen thousand men were said to be at 
 work removing the debris from the ruins, and the 
 contracts had been let for several large structures of 
 brick and marble, one of these three stories in height 
 to be finished in ten days ; and many of five stories 
 in height in ninety days. 
 
 In the meantime the people had determined evi- 
 dently that want of room was not to deter them 
 from their wonted business. As early as Friday 
 of the same week as the fire, through all the fine 
 residence portion of the city adjacent to the ruins, 
 the dwellings were spotted with signs made of 
 shingles, literally so in these cases, barrel-staves, 
 barrel-heads, and rough boards, lettered with lamp- 
 
THE CHICAGO FIRE 339 
 
 black announcing that such a bank; or So-and-So, 
 grocers or tailors, were to be found within. Along 
 these streets the bustle seemed as great as ever, the 
 steps of the people as elastic, and their driving as 
 fast. But even the doubtful salutation of " How 
 are you, beggar? " with which friends greeted one 
 another, scarcely prepared one for the terribly des- 
 ert-like appearance of the ruins. Think of riding 
 nearly four miles, as one could do, by starting at the 
 extreme southwestern limits of the fire, through a 
 region which, only a week before, had been the cen- 
 ter of as great commercial activity and prosperity 
 as could be found in the country; and, for a mile on 
 either side, seeing nothing but desolation almost 
 as great as that to be found, at the present time, 
 after centuries of neglect and decay, on the site of 
 Babylon or of Nineveh. 
 
 If a single night could work such ruin in a mod- 
 ern city, no wonder centuries have spared so little 
 from the monuments of antiquity! Scarcely any- 
 thing but the fine wooden pavements, almost as per- 
 fect as the day in which they were laid, remained to 
 attest that one was traversing the ruins of a once 
 thickly-built city. Little else had survived the 
 crucible of the fire. The stone curbstones, and the 
 granite warehouses had in most cases literally 
 crumbled into ashes. Only here and there, amid 
 piles of brick and twisted iron, a tall wall still stand- 
 ing, a portion of some well-known edifice — possibly 
 a picturesque spire or fagade of a church — re- 
 mained to serve as a landmark of a familiar lo- 
 cality. One needed merely to substitute for these 
 busy workmen prying open vaults and safes, the 
 wild beast and the bird of prey, and the picture of 
 
340 EDUCATION, ABT AND CIVICS 
 
 Oriental desolation would have been complete. A 
 strange fate, indeed, for this new-born city of the 
 prairies, this paragon of enterprise, this ideal of 
 aspiring energy, the crest where the tidal wave of 
 progress flowing to the westward seemed to break 
 upon the borders of the wilderness casting up a surf 
 white with the marble of palaces and glittering ia 
 the sunrise as brightly as the gold that had caused 
 it! Strange experience for these light-hearted chil- 
 dren of civilization who, with bounding steps had 
 had no thoughts that were not filled with hope! 
 What jealousy had roused that demon of destruc- 
 tion whom our age had supposed could haunt the 
 forsaken homes alone of those long dead and buried, 
 and had caused him to invade the just discovered 
 territory on this side the globe, and, with arms of 
 fire, clutch and snatch to himself those possessions 
 which the men who had toiled so hard to earn them, 
 had scarcely had the opportunity, as yet, even to 
 begin to enjoy? 
 
 Possibly, Chicago and all the country, of which 
 the methods of thought and life in that city were typ- 
 ical, needed to be reminded that, after all, the pres- 
 ent has some connection with the past; that the 
 same laws which have undermined and destroyed 
 not cities only, but so many other results of the in- 
 genuity and energy of former ages, are still at work, 
 and, in time, may undermine and destroy condi- 
 tions here. We Americans seem to think that 
 there can never be an end to the rise in the value 
 of real estate or of rents ; that there can be no limit 
 to the possibilities of material development, or of 
 the increase of income derived from well placed in- 
 vestments. All right enough, a certain degree of 
 
THE CHICAGO FIBE 341 
 
 the confidence and courage that are thus engendered ! 
 Beating hearts and glowing brains need expecta- 
 tion and the enterprise awakened by it — as children 
 need their playthings and their games, — to keep up 
 and increase vitality. But in the day when fiery trial 
 flashes on the mind the consciousness that every age 
 is a part of all the past, and is bound to share in its 
 vicissitudes, it may be wise for those who think that 
 everything is lost to recall that, like children, too, 
 when all their toys are gone, grown men, as well, 
 may save the whole of that for which the things that 
 once they held in hand were worth the holding. 
 Victims of that fire there were, who, through using 
 opportunities, when they had them, for education 
 and for culture; through using opportunities, when 
 they had them, for practising hospitality, benevo- 
 lence and public spirit, had acquired possessions, 
 the brightness of which no smoke could dim, the 
 substance of which no flames could melt; because 
 through these their souls had been brought into 
 sympathy and fellowship not only with created 
 things, but with those creative forces, intellectual 
 and spiritual in essence, that nothing can destroy, 
 and which, when not destroyed, can, of themselves, 
 create a new and often more desirable environment. 
 Not seldom, too, nothing with so much cer- 
 tainty as a great calamity like this can bring to a 
 man a realization of the true value of that which, 
 in prosperity, he has thus wisely made his own. 
 On the first night of the fire, a man of whom 
 I heard, amid the rush and tumult of the crowd, 
 was roughly jostled from his wife. For two days, 
 tho his search was unremitting, neither friend 
 nor newspaper could tell him whether she were 
 
342 EDUCATION, ART AND CIVICS 
 
 dead or living. But, at last, as a final experiment, 
 he rang the door-bell of the house of an old friend. 
 She herself appeared at the door, to answer the 
 call; and, at the sight of her, he fell down, 
 apparently lifeless because of joy. Was that wholly 
 a misfortune which could reveal a proof of love 
 like this? There was a lawyer who saved his 
 wife and family, but nothing else. Leaving these in 
 safety, he went to spend a few hours on business in 
 Milwaukee. When he left there, to return to Chi- 
 cago, a letter was placed in his hand with a request 
 not to open it till the train had started. It con- 
 tained five hundred dollars, and a check for a trunk 
 in the baggage car filled with a complete wardrobe 
 for his family. Was that wholly a misfortune which 
 could occasion and reveal such delicacy of regard 
 and sympathy as this? And what shall one say of 
 the gold and the goods that, during the week follow- 
 ing the fire were showered, without hope of return, 
 upon all the destitute in that suffering city! One 
 might have thought that the flames that had en- 
 wrapt it were not, as they were, something that 
 might involve almost equal losses on the part ofj 
 those contributing, but rather, forsooth, some en- 
 tertaining spectacle, illumined to solicit in return 
 their gratified applause and patronage! 
 
 In that inevitable attempt of the mind to solve 
 what seems the inscrutable mystery of all the cir- 
 cumstances, could one find any explanation more 
 rational or satisfactory than that suggested in 
 terms which, applying as they do to the greatest 
 and most universal of all possible disasters, must 
 apply also to all that they could include, the ex- 
 planation given in the prophecy, " Yet once more 
 
TEE CHICAGO FIBE 343 
 
 I shake not the earth only, but also heaven " (Heb. 
 12 :26) ; " The elements shall melt with fervent heat, 
 the earth also and the works that are therein shall 
 be burned up " (2 Pet. 3, 10); " And this word, 
 yet once more, signifieth the removing of those 
 things that are shaken, as of things that are made, 
 that those things which cannot be shaken may re- 
 main " (Heb. 12:27)? 
 
 THE END 
 
INDEX 
 
 Academic education, inefficiency of, 98, 
 99; expense of, 14; its object, 9, 13, 
 16, 17; training in Germany, 100. 
 
 Academy, 9. 
 
 Accuracy of observation, determining 
 rank in art-work, 43-45 ; why neces- 
 sary there, 43, 46. 
 
 Advance in Studies retarded by graded 
 system, 28-33, 109-111. 
 
 ^schylus, 91. 
 
 Allen, F. I., 127. 
 
 Alliteration, 111, 134, 186. 
 
 American method of education, 17-19, 
 112, 113; its former efficiency, 207; 
 see Republican Government and 
 Patriotism. 
 
 Angelo, 36, 63, 
 
 Applying information in education, 102- 
 109. 
 
 Architecture, decline of after Greek 
 and Gothic, 47; its relation to ethics, 
 85, 86; its religious influence, 68, 87. 
 
 Aristides, 292, 293. 
 
 Aristotle, 176, 223, 226. 
 
 Arnold, Matthew, 92, 237. 
 
 Art and religion, different effects of, 
 87, 88; anticipates needs and com- 
 pletes results of science, 51-61; ap- 
 peals to a man's whole nature, 71; 
 as product of imagination, 51-53; 
 automatic action of the mind in, 
 155, 156, 168; decline of, through 
 imitation, 46-48 ; definition of, 177; 
 distinguished from religion and sci- 
 ence, 35-38, 56-58; educational influ- 
 ence, contrasted with that of science, 
 35-49, 90-107; ditto of religion, 49-69; 
 enlarges human experience, 88, 129 ; 
 human, 68, 85; invention cultivated 
 by, 127, 128; its quality improved 
 by morality, 72; mutual influence 
 with it of science and religion, 35- 
 38; not causing national or moral 
 decline, 72-75; religious influence of, 
 66-69, 87, 88. 
 
 Artist, aim of, versus scientist, 92; as 
 an inventor, 55, 127, 
 
 Artistic conceptions, related to those 
 of business, religion, society, 143-144; 
 effects increased by difficulty of pro- 
 ducing, 135, 136; effects similar to 
 those of genius and inspiration, 202; 
 source of logical form in oratory 
 and poetry, 218-229. 
 
 Association of ideas trained in educa- 
 tion, 99-102. 
 
 Assonance, 134, 186. 
 
 Athens, 2^. 
 
 Athletics, abuse of, 265, 266. 
 
 Automatic action of the mind obtained 
 
 by memorizing, 93, 94; by practicing 
 
 for technic, 155, 156, 168. 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 91; Roger, 36. 
 
 Bain, Alex., 127, 190. 
 
 Baldwin, J. M., 127. 
 
 Barber, Dr. , elocutionist, 209. 
 
 Beardsley, A., 45, 46, 170. 
 
 Beauty, comprehensiveness of its appeal, 
 71; fixed, not shifting standards of, 
 48; increases popularity of plays, 83; 
 necessary to high art, 79, 80. 
 
 Beecher, H. W., 21, 22, 23, 104, 105, 
 113, 190, 200; his elocutionary train- 
 ing, 209, 210, 213; his rhetorical 
 training and genius, 200. 
 
 Belasco, D., 78. 
 
 Bell, A. G., 55, 
 
 Berkley, Bishop, 192. 
 
 Blake, William, 170. 
 
 Blind Tom, 199, 200. 
 
 Bossuet, 36. 
 
 Bowring, Sir John, 270. 
 
 Bunyan, J., 104. 
 
 Business enterprise, right principle of 
 266, 267. 
 
 Byron, Lord, ranked by foreigners 
 above Tennyson, 194, 196. 
 
 Cairo, 270. 
 
 Calderon, 36. 
 
 Calvin, J., 36. 
 
 Capitalists needed in country, 302, 
 303; versus laborers, 301-309. 
 
 Capuchin monk, 283. 
 
 Caricature, popular, shows popular dis- 
 approbation, 240. 
 
 Case-system of education, with adults 
 and children, 11, 12, 93-95. 
 
 Censorship of plays in England, 83, 84. 
 
 Chadbourne, Pres. P, A., 39. 
 
 Character, individual, as developed in 
 a republic, 269-280 ; as causing na- 
 tional character, 293. 
 
 Chevreul, 54. 
 
 Chicago, description of, 320-326; its fire, 
 326-337; its name, 321. 
 
 Child's method of learning versus 
 adult's, 11, 12, 93-96. 
 
 China, educational methods of, 147 ; 
 proposed business use of English 
 in, 260. 
 
346 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Cicero, 208. 
 
 Clay, Henry, 105, 208. 
 
 Classics, iD^ueQce of art on, 53-56; 
 Qerman method of teachini^, 100; 
 use of, in education, 63, 99, 117. 
 
 Class-system in schools and colleges, 
 110; see Graded. 
 
 Colburn, Zerah, 200. 
 
 Coleridge, S. T., 171. 
 
 College, American, 17, 18; differs from 
 German University, 18-34; methods of 
 teaching in, 24-28, 100-105, 206, 207; 
 training needed in, 9, 15-32; require- 
 ments for entrance and raising them, 
 13, 15, 102-107. 
 
 Color, appropriate effects of, on the 
 mind, 42; harmony of, 42; influ- 
 enced by musical effects, 138-141, 
 
 Columbus, 36. 
 
 Commencement, college, former and 
 present, 160, 206, 207. 
 
 Composition, English, 102-105. 
 
 Concentration on single subjects of 
 study in college, 32, 33, 110. 
 
 Condolle, M. A. de, in Hist, des Sci- 
 ences, 242, 244. 
 
 Consonants, effects of, in changing 
 sounds of accompanying vowels, 258, 
 259. 
 
 Constitution of the U. S., efforts to 
 discredit, 305, 306. 
 
 Constructive mental powers developed 
 by art, 127, 128. 
 
 Conventionalities of art causing its de- 
 cline, 47-49. 
 
 Copernicus, 36. 
 
 Corporations, large, beneficial, 302-306. 
 
 Correspondence, law of, applied in im- 
 agination, 55. 
 
 Corson, Prof. Hiram, 159. 
 
 Courtesy, an artistic cause for, 120. 
 
 Cramming, as an educational method, 
 20. 
 
 Dancing, its influence on painting, 137. 
 
 D'Annunzio, G., 79. 
 
 Dante, 36, 47, 67, 124, 126, 135. 
 
 Day, H. N., 230. 
 
 Debating in college, 21, 28. 
 
 Decoration Day, address, 313-319. 
 
 Delsarte system of elocution, 178. 
 
 Demosthenes, 154, 208, 212. 
 
 Descartes, 36. 
 
 Dialects caused by irregular spelling, 
 241, 242. 
 
 Difficulty of production increases ar- 
 tistic excellence, 135, 136 ; not in- 
 superable objection to educational 
 methods, 149. 
 
 Douglass, Frederick, 33. 
 
 Drama, cannot be abolished, 82, 83; 
 lucrative when moral, 83, 84; what 
 constitutes immoral, 77-85. 
 
 Drawing, mental influence of instruc- 
 tion in, 114-130. 
 
 Drill, importance of, in art, 154, 168- 
 171, 198, 199, 201; in education, 11, 
 13, 15, 23-26, 100, 101, 107, 108, 146- 
 
 148, 155, 206-209; in Latin, 10, 11, 98, 
 99, 100, 101; in mathematics, 12, 95- 
 99; not inconsistent with pleasure in 
 acquiring, 97, 149; not with spon- 
 taniety and inspiration in express- 
 ing, 24, 44-49, 198-202. 
 Dryden, style artificial, 172. 
 
 Education, expression the aim of, 23, 
 96, 97-101, 176, 198-205; former Ameri- 
 can, 17, 18, 206, 207; its nature as 
 determining methods with children, 
 11, 93-99 ; results of present super- 
 ficial elementary, 98, 99; see Acad- 
 emy, College and University. 
 
 Egypt, 270; knowledge of art, lost and 
 found in Ancient, 47. 
 
 Elective System in College, 19, 20, 29, 
 30, 107, 108. 
 
 Elocution, effects of study of on char- 
 acter, 176-178 ; need of teaching in 
 college, 175-177, 208-213 ; instruction 
 in it and in rhetoric allied, 181-185; 
 instructor of described, 215, 216; need 
 of instruction in, 155-179, 202, 203; 
 rank in college of its instructors, 
 176, 177; relation of it to all the 
 arts, 177-179, 202-205; to literature, 
 176, 177, 181-207; to mental develop- 
 ment, 28, 104, 105, 189-190; to physi- 
 cal development, 28, 104, 105, 208-213. 
 
 Emerson, R. W., 21; views on art, 171. 
 
 England, its people's investments in 
 America, 284, 294; trade with, 284. 
 
 English, as a scientific study, 26-28, 
 111; composition as taught in col- 
 lege, 20-24, 26-28, 102-105, 205, 206; 
 language of the future, 242-244; lit- 
 erature, as taught in college, 20-24, 
 26-28, 102-105, 187-207; requirements 
 for college entrance, 102-105. 
 
 Enterprise, business, true principles at 
 basis of, 266, 267. 
 
 Esthetic and Ethic, similar in effect, 
 72-75, 85-89. 
 
 Ethic, indifference to demands of the, 
 shows ignorance of the esthetic, 71, 
 79, 83; see Esthetic. 
 
 Everett, E., 207. 
 
 Experience of life enlarged by art, 88, 
 129. 
 
 Explanations not always for children, 
 95. 
 
 Expression in art must be made right 
 by study of form, 168-173, 202, 203. 
 
 Fatist, Goethe's, 92, 123. 
 
 Femald, Prof. O. M., 14. 
 
 Figrurative language, why effective, 122, 
 123. 
 
 Figures in thinking, 121-128. 
 
 Finney, Pres. C. G., 205. 
 
 Fitch, C, dramatist, 78. 
 
 Foreign Commerce, affected by value 
 of money, 283-290. 
 
 Form, as representing thought, 59, 66, 
 121-128, 134-137; a thing to be con- 
 sidered in art, 59-61, 169-173; but in 
 
INDEX 
 
 347 
 
 connection with significance, 63-69; 
 logical, in oratory and poetry, 218- 
 229; necessary for an artist to appre- 
 ciate form as form, 204. See Acou- 
 RACT and Observation. 
 
 France, its recognition of America, 277, 
 288. 
 
 Free Trade agitation, 295. 
 
 Gamaliel, 176. 
 
 Garrison, W. L., 275. 
 
 Gascon, 282. 
 
 Genius, 105, 198-202. 
 
 German, academic instruction, lOO, 
 101; thorouglmess in scholarship re- 
 lated to study of music, 145; uni- 
 versity, 18, 101. 
 
 Gesture, method of studying, 158; ne- 
 cessity for, 63. 
 
 Goethe, 36, 91, 123, 126, 135. 
 
 Gold, used for money, 284-287. 
 
 Government, principle of; in America, 
 272-277, 279; in Europe, 271, 277, 278; 
 in the Orient, 270, 271. 
 
 Graded system in school and college, 
 28, 29, 33, 109, 110. 
 
 Grand Army of the Republic, 315. 
 
 Gratitude, its nature, 155. 
 
 Greece, integrity of its ancient people, 
 292, 293. 
 
 Griffin, Pres. E. D., 205. 
 
 Guthrie, Eev. Dr. Thomas, 210. 
 
 Hamilton, Sir W., 127. 
 
 Harmony, analogous in arts of sight 
 
 and in music, 138-141. 
 Hawthorne, 21, 207. 
 Hauptmann, G., 79. 
 Helmholtz, 138. 
 Holmes, O. W., 21, 207. 
 Hoods worn in college, 206. 
 Histoire des Sciences, 242. 
 Hopkins, Pres. Mark, 20, 25, 100, 101, 
 
 103, 205, 228. 
 Humboldt, 36. 
 Humphreys, Pres., 205. 
 
 Ibsen, 79. 
 
 Ideal, should not be waived for prac- 
 tical success, 14. 
 
 Images, mental, differently formed m 
 different arts, 121-128, 192-197; in in- 
 vention, 52, 55, 66, 121-128, 193-197. 
 
 Imagination, 24, 124, 125, 127-128; im- 
 portance of in thinking, as in classics 
 or mathematics, 51-59; influence on 
 invention, 65, 127, 128; on religion, 
 57, 58; necessary to science as to 
 art, 61-56; what it is, 51-64. 
 
 Immorality in art, 78-86; in the drama. 
 
 Impressionism in painting, 45, 46, 61, 
 62, 138-140. , . .,, 
 
 Independence, commercial, impossible 
 for a nation, 283-292. 
 
 Individuality needed in expression, 165- 
 167; in teaching, 159. 
 
 Inductive methods cannot be practiced 
 by children, 11, 12, 92-95. 
 
 Information as object of study, not all 
 that is necessary, 106-108, 146; V8. 
 discipline, 91-108, 146-148. 
 
 Inspiration in art, 44, 71, 88, 199-202; 
 its dependence for expression ou 
 skill in technic, 23, 24, 44, 46, 198- 
 202; its effects as secured by appar- 
 ent truth to nature, 88. 
 
 Interpretation of nature by great artists 
 and their students, 126. 
 
 Italy, decline of, 73, 276. 
 
 James, of Mallorca, 36; W., 127. 
 
 Japan, artistic taste of its people, 74; 
 neglect of perspective in painting, 
 47; its esthetics and ethics coincide, 
 74, 76, 86, 87. 
 
 Japanese, 232; proposition with refer- 
 ence to simplified English spelling, 
 269, 260. 
 
 Japanning, English, 230. 
 
 Khedive of Egypt, his former power, 
 
 270. 
 Kirkland, Pres. J., 205. 
 Knowledge acquired by practice, 49, 50. 
 
 Laborers and capitalists, 301-309. 
 
 Latin, elementary teaching in, 10, 11, 
 98, 99, 100, 101. 
 
 Law, obedience to, first condition of 
 civilization, 307-309; universal appli- 
 cability of, taught by music, 142-144. 
 
 Lawlessness, general evil effects of, 
 143, 144. 
 
 Leaders of thought in America, private 
 citizens, 274, 275. 
 
 Lecture courses, insufficient in a col- 
 lege, 19, 20, 101; how made efficient, 
 19, 20. 
 
 Lectures, province of in instruction, 
 101, 102. 
 
 Lessing, 91. 
 
 Letters of alphabet, phonetic system of 
 sounds of not feasible in English, 
 245, 246; only three more, already in 
 partial use, needed for spelling Eng- 
 lish perfectly and indisputably, 246, 
 247; see Spelling. 
 
 Liberty, cause of in the world depend- 
 ent on the action of individual citi- 
 zens in free lands, 288-292. 
 
 Liberty enlightening the World, Statue, 
 277, 288, 290. 
 
 Literary appreciation developed by 
 study of elocution, 191, 192; artist, 
 developed by same study, 188-206; 
 tendency in painting, 66, 66. 
 
 Literature, as an art, 192; cannot 
 thrive when making it an art is un- 
 popular, 21, 22; study of its artistic 
 features not popular now in colleges, 
 22; the religious influence of, 66-68; 
 the teaching of, 102-104. 
 
 Lincoln, 316. 
 
 Lock, John, 127. 
 
348 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Longfellow, 197, 207. 
 Louis XIV, 283. 
 Lovell, Prof., 190, 209. 
 Lowell, J. R., 207, 312. 
 Loyola, 36. 
 
 March, F. A., 230. 
 
 Marley, William, 78. 
 
 Marsh, G. P., 241. 
 
 Master of Arts, HI. 
 
 Materialism, its influence on educa- 
 tional methods, 23. 
 
 Mathematics, academic neglect of drill 
 in, 12, 98, 99; influence of art upon 
 study of, 53-56; influence upon the 
 mind, 63, 54, 117, 118; poets pro- 
 ficient in, 124, 125. 
 
 Mayflower Pilgrims, and present rep- 
 resentatives, 262-268. 
 
 Melody, teaching of in elocution, 166- 
 167. 
 
 Memory, of child and of adult, 92-99; 
 learns by way of repetition, 32, 33. 
 
 Merry Widow Waltz, 141. 
 
 Milton, 124, 191, 236. 
 
 Jlohamraed, 313. 
 
 Moliere, 36. 
 
 Moral, a good, not sufficient to redeem 
 immoral representation, 79-81. 
 
 Morality, effect on, of intelligence, 83- 
 85; improved by artistic influence, 
 72; in art is lucrative, 83-85. 
 
 Morals, art and, 70-89. 
 
 Morris, Robert, 302. 
 
 Morse, S. F. B., inventor, 55. 
 
 Motley, J. L., 21, 176, 190, 207. 
 
 Mozart, 198-200. 
 
 Miiller, Max, 247. 
 
 Murillo, 63. 
 
 Music, effects of on other arts, 131- 
 141; on general culture, 141-152; on 
 ideas of universal applicability of 
 law, 142-144; of pleasure in learning, 
 148-160; of results of practice, 146- 
 148; of skill, 146-148; of thorough- 
 ness, 144-146; relation to painting, 
 sculpture and architecture, 137-141; 
 to poetry, 124, 133-137; to religion, 
 68, 140. 
 
 Musical effects, in oratory, 193, 194; in 
 poetry, 124, 133-137, 193-197. 
 
 Musicians, many scholars have been 
 such in early life, 150. 
 
 Names, calling, in controversy, 92. 
 Natural, the, in art, 157, 158; V8, the 
 
 artificial, 166-158. 
 Naturalness, 156. 
 Nature, must be represented in art, 
 
 44, 45, 75-77; truth to, not all that 
 
 is needed in art, 79, 80. 
 Nature, studies in preparatory schools, 
 
 107. 
 Newman, F. W., 192. 
 Nott, President E., 205. 
 
 Observation, accuracy of, 38-40; 42-44, 
 118, 121; cultivation of accuracy in, 
 by study of art, especially drawing, 
 38-61, 118-121; importance of, 38-49; 
 118, 121. 
 
 Oral discourse, as related to written, 
 180-206. 
 
 Orator, his opportunity in America, 
 274-275. 
 
 Oratory, college, 20-22, 27, 28, 104, 169- 
 168, 202-207; commencement, 160, 
 
 206, 207. 
 
 Oriental education, 99, 147; govern- 
 ment, 270, 271. 
 Orthographic laws of English, 230-261. 
 
 Painting, as influenced by music, 137- 
 141; impressionalism in, 46, 46, 61, 
 62, 139, 138-140; in which paint is 
 prominent, 44, 45, 172, 173; its re- 
 ligious influence, 68; subject-matter 
 of, important, 59-69; see Music and 
 Significance. 
 
 Patriotism and religion connected, 317- 
 319; an incentive to national probity, 
 288-293, 300. 
 
 Perceive, importance of ability to, 119; 
 see Observation. 
 
 Pericles, 73. 
 
 Perspective in architecture not under- 
 stood nor applied, 47. 
 
 Phillips Academy, Exeter, 15; An- 
 dover, 106. 
 
 Phillips, W., 21, 22, 104, U3, 176, 190, 
 
 207, 208, 275. 
 Philosophy, Doctor of. 111. 
 
 Phonetic Spelling, not necessary nor 
 feasible in English, 245, 246. 
 
 Physical underlying mental ability, 96, 
 97. 
 
 Pictures in the mind representing 
 thought, 121-123, 193-197; subject- 
 matter of, important, 60-69. 
 
 Picturesque, descriptions best for elo- 
 cution, 194-197; words in poetry, 
 124, 133-137, 193-197. 
 
 Pilgrims, the fathers, and what they 
 accomplished, 262-265, vs. Puritans, 
 263. 
 
 Plato, 91, 141, 188, 223. 
 
 Play, not truth to nature, nor the 
 moral, the most important, in dra- 
 matic, 81. 
 
 Poe, his music, 134. 
 
 Poetic form, artiflcial of age of Queen 
 Anne and of present, 171-173; natural 
 171-173. 
 
 Poets as mathematicians, 124, 125. 
 
 Poetry influenced by music, 193-197; 
 musical effects of, 133-136. 
 
 Pope, his style artiflcial, 172. 
 
 Poster art, 46, 48. 
 
 Practicality in teaching, 101, 102. 
 
 Practice causing skill, 23, 24, 49, 50; 
 importance of in mental and literary 
 training, 12, 13, 23, 24, 49-51, 95-99, 
 146-148. 
 
 Prescott, W. H., 207. 
 
INDEX 
 
 349 
 
 Princeton, 160. 
 
 Principles, important to ground prac- 
 tices on right, 265-268. 
 
 Probity, national, the price of pros- 
 perity, 281-312. 
 
 Prohibition not a cure for the evils pro- 
 hibited, 82, 83. 
 
 Proportion in arta of sight suggested by 
 music, 138; sense of it and of its use 
 in art, lost, 47, 48. 
 
 Private citizen, a leader in America, 
 274, 275; his responsibility and re- 
 spectability, 274-276. 
 
 Public schools would better be small, 
 112; sentiment sometimes wiser than 
 professional, 111, 112. 
 
 Pun, needs representation in different 
 spellings, 257; suggested in serious 
 language, 257. 
 
 Pythagoras, 54, 138. 
 
 Quality, oral, 186, 193, 203; vs. quan- 
 tity in college requirements, 13-15, 
 105-108. 
 
 Quantity; see Quality. 
 
 Questioning, or quizzing in giving in- 
 struction, 102, 111, 112; in teaching 
 elocution, 173, 174. 
 
 Quintilian, 176, 180, 181. 
 
 Raleigh, 10. 
 
 Raphael, 63, 126. 
 
 Ratios in music, poetry and arts of 
 sight corresponding, 138. 
 
 Reasoning method of acquiring knowl- 
 edge not natural to children, 11, 12, 
 92-95. 
 
 Recall, education should train one to, 
 11, 96-99. 
 
 Recitation exercises, 30-32, 102, 112. 
 
 Recreation, true principle underlying, 
 265, 266. 
 
 Reflection, importance of, and cultiva- 
 tion by study of art, 51-56; of draw- 
 ing, 121-125. 
 
 Reformation, the, 276. 
 
 Regular spelling in English, methods 
 of securing, 247-248. 
 
 Religion, distinguished from art and 
 science, and how helped by both, 35- 
 38; helped by art, 50-51, 55-58, 66, 
 69; by imagination, 50, 57. 
 
 Religious lessons of war, 316, 317. 
 
 Repetition, as a means of acquiring 
 knowledge and skill, 10, 32, 33, 49; 
 through imitation as in elocution, 
 164-167; with rote memory, 10, 11, 
 32, 33, 94, 95, 97-99. 
 
 Representation of nature and life es- 
 sential to art, 44, 45, 75-77; not all 
 that is needed in art, 79-82; vs. the 
 moral, and the action, 80, 81. 
 
 Republican government, effects of, 288- 
 290; intellectual and spiritual attain- 
 ment in, 276-279; necessity for indi- 
 vidual integrity in, 288-292, 317-319. 
 See Patriotism. 
 
 Revolution in a republic leads to 
 despotism, 309; the American, an 
 evolution, 269. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir J., 36. 
 
 Rhetoric and elocution allied, 181-182; 
 their principles similar, 181-187. 
 
 Rhyme, 134, 136. 
 
 Rhythm, 134, 137, 185, 193. 
 
 Russia, her freeing slaves, 271; her 
 principles of government, 271; her 
 using leather for money, 286. 
 
 Salvation Army, 141. 
 
 Savonarola, 36. 
 
 Schleiermacker, 36. 
 
 Scholar, not made in college, 9, 10, 17, 
 25; yet it might make one, 33. 
 
 Science, compared with art and reli- 
 gion, and its need of both, 35-38; 
 correspondence between its educa- 
 tional influence and that of art, 38- 
 50; its need of imagination, 51-52, 
 54-56; its work completed by that 
 of art, 51-60; wrongly taught in col- 
 lege, 24-26. 
 
 Scientific education, 92, 93, 106, 107; 
 studies, 106; teachers and their influ- 
 ence, 24-28, 101-108; vs. artistic, 90- 
 113. 
 
 Scientists, and artists, different aims 
 of, 92, 95. 
 
 Scott, Sir W., 171. 
 
 Scribe, French dramatist, 124. 
 
 Sculpture, its religious influence, 68. 
 
 Seeley, Prof. J. R., on elocution, 191. 
 
 Self-sacrifice of the soldier's life, 315, 
 316; of the teacher's, 26. 
 
 Shakespeare, 43, 126, 135, 154, 171, 191, 
 196, 244, 257. 
 
 Sheldon, dramatist, 78. 
 
 Sherman, W. T., 153. 
 
 Significance, as well as form important 
 in art-work, 59-61, 63-66, 169-173; nec- 
 essary to art-work, 59-69. 
 
 Silver, as used for money, 284-286; free 
 coinage of, 285, 290, 291, 293, 297- 
 300; used in Mexico, 287. 
 
 Simplified Spelling Board, 250; see 
 Spelling. 
 
 Skill, appreciation of taught by elo- 
 cution, 176; taught by music, 146- 
 148; importance of appreciating it 
 in art and literature, 146-148, 197, 
 198; influencing religious conceptions, 
 49-51; needing to be taught in educa- 
 tional methods, 95, 96; what it in- 
 volves, on art, 24, 44, 45, 50, 95, 96, 
 198-202. 
 
 Sky-line, 85. 
 
 Sky-scraper, evils of, 85, 86. 
 
 Soldier, his testimony to the spiritual 
 life, 313-319. 
 
 Spain, decline of, 73, 276. 
 
 Speaker, the American, his influence, 
 275. 
 
 Speaking, neglect of public in college, 
 20-22, 27, 28, 205, 206. 
 
350 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Specialists need broad knowledge, 118. 
 
 Spelling, English, causes of its irregu- 
 larities, 234-287; changes in it now 
 made wrongly, 239, 240; irregularity 
 promotive of dialects, sectionalism, 
 and new languages and nations, 241, 
 242; laws oi, 230-261; letters used 
 should have their English sounds, 
 245; new letters not needed for regu- 
 lar, 246, 247; regular need not be 
 phonetic, 245, 246; time wasted in 
 learning to, 232, 233; of words 
 sounded alike need not be alike, 257. 
 
 Spencer, H., 180. 
 
 Spenser, £., his spelling, 236. 
 
 Spires, battle of, 282. 
 
 burgeon. Rev. C, his elocutionary 
 training, 210. 
 
 Stevenson, 104. 
 
 Storrs, Dr. R. S., 21. 
 
 Studying one thing at a time, 12, 33, 
 110. 
 
 Stuttgart gymnasium, 100. 
 
 Style, lack of interest in because of 
 lack of appreciating art in it, 21-23; 
 method of teaching it, 103-105. 
 
 Subject-matter in art important, 59-69. 
 
 Sudermann, H. S., 79. 
 
 Swinburne, 134, 170, 195, 196. 
 
 Tacitds, 91. 
 
 Tammanyizing industries by Socialism, 
 
 804. 
 Taylor, Dr. S. H., of Phillips Academy, 
 
 Andover, 106. 
 Teachers, need self-denial and sacrifice, 
 
 26; of art and science contrasted, 24, 
 
 25; to blame for dullness of pupils, 
 
 98. 
 Technic, Anglo-Saxon disregard of, 169- 
 
 178; as related to expression in art, 
 
 169-171; in elocution, 173, 175-179. 
 Tennyson, 43, 134, 191, 244; why un- 
 derrated by foreigners, 194, 196. 
 Themistocles, 292, 293. 
 Theological seminary, elocutionary 
 
 training in, 208-217. 
 Thinking, by means of images in the 
 
 mind, rather than by words, 121-128; 
 
 training for, in colleges, 19-21, 24, 
 
 26, 30-33, 101-105, 108. 
 Thoroughness in education needed, and 
 
 helpt by music, 144-160. 
 
 Truth to life and nature not all that 
 
 is needed in art, 79, 80. 
 Turkey, educational methods of, 147. 
 
 University, American has developed 
 artificially, 18, 19, 107; by destroying 
 the college, 19-34; differs from college 
 in aim, 10, 25; futility of intro- 
 ducing post-graduate studies in un- 
 dergraduate work, 108; is a post- 
 graduate school, 108; see Lectukeb 
 and Lectdee Coitrses. 
 
 Utilitarian Age, its influence on meth- 
 ods of education, 23, 24. 
 
 Verse, an aid to artistic expression, 
 
 136. 
 Virgil, 11, 91. 
 
 Virginia, University of, 110. 
 Vocal culture in college, 28, 104; its 
 
 importance, 28, 104, 105, 153-177, 203, 
 
 209-217. 
 Vowels, English rules for pronouncing, 
 
 253-259. 
 Vowel-sound, when combined with and 
 
 without forming diphthongs, 253-255; 
 
 when long and short, 259. 
 
 Washington, George, a capitalist, 302; 
 Statue of, 75, 76. 
 
 Watt, James, the inventor, 36. 
 
 Wayland, President Francis, 205. 
 
 Webster, Daniel, 21, 113, 207; Noah, 
 235. 
 
 Wesley, John, 36. 
 
 Whitman, W., 170. 
 
 Whitney, Prof. W. D., 230. 
 
 Wilde, O., 170. 
 
 Williams College, 14, 20, 22, 160. 
 
 Woods, L., President, 205. 
 
 Words, as appealing to the eye or ear, 
 133-135, 193-197; as expressing truth, 
 123, 124; as representing thought, 121- 
 128; origin of, 123; vs. thought in 
 them when used in controversy, 92. 
 
 Wordsworth, 126, 126. 
 
 Writer, his influence in America, 274, 
 276. 
 
 Written discourse in principle re- 
 lated to oral, 180-206; see English 
 and Style. 
 
 Yale Lectures, H. W. Beecher's, 20O. 
 Yellow Book, the magazine, 46. 
 
Other Books hy Professor Raymond 
 
 The Psychology of Inspiration. 8vo, olotli. iVei, $1.40; by mail, $1.53 
 
 The book f onnds its conclQsions on a etndy of the action of the human mind when 
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 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York and London, Publishers 
 
Cornell University Library 
 
 arV15661 
 
 Fundamentals in education, art and civic 
 
 3 1924 031 379 500 
 
 olin,anx