The possibilities of education depend upon inborn capacities, but the
unfolding of them is education. A man of large capacity, born among
savages, remains a savage, an Arab is a Mohammedan, an Englishman
is a Christian, a child among thieves is a thief, a child in a home
of culture imbibes refinement and truth. Tennyson, in the interior
of Africa, would not have developed his exquisite rhyme and rhythm,
metaphor and verse, and polish and sparkle of expression, would not
have conceived thoughts that penetrate the earth and the nature of
man, and shoot upward to the quivering stars; he would have mused
under his palm tree, and have fed, perhaps somewhat daintily, upon
unlucky missionaries. An African of natural ability in the homes of
Massachusetts, under the influence of Harvard, would become a man of
vigorous thought and fine feeling, possibly of genius.
Since education is so potent, what shall the nature of it be? Shall
knowledge of mountain and forest and the seasons, and the common sense
that grows from experience, and the practical power to read and compute
be sufficient? If all minds were equal, if the stores of wisdom were
valueless, if special investigators found nothing worth revealing,
if thoughts of master minds did not inspire, if men, like brutes,
were governed by instincts and had no possibilities beyond a certain
physical skill, the education of nature might suffice.
This is a practical age, and no picture too bright can be drawn of the
advantages of a high material civilization for bettering the condition
of all classes of men. The necessity of being an active factor in the
world of usefulness cannot be too strongly urged. But our material
progress is dependent upon soul activity. This activity is nourished
by general education. Soul activity finds expression in a thousand
practical ways. We educate highly that the man may have more power,
that he may have many resources, that he may do better what he has
to do, and may not be dependent on one means of support or one set
of conditions. It is not so much labor with the hands as intelligent
directive power which is needed, and this power is largely derived
from general education. Intelligent men are intelligent laborers. An
educated man will learn more quickly, work more successfully, and
attain a higher standard than the ignorant artisan. Theory teaches and
practice proves that in business and manual pursuits educated men bring
an intelligence to their work and accomplish results impossible for
the ignorant man; that, as a class, they average high in all practical
activities. There should be no haste to enter a trade. Life is long
enough to accomplish all that may be done, and all the preparation made
for its duties is a wise economy. It is hardly necessary here to state
the inference that general education is practical education.
The demand for less of general education before the special is
prominent. This demand does not necessarily imply that its authors
believe there is too much preparation for life work; indeed, few of
them would wish that preparation to be less; they would simply change
the ratio between general and special training. We believe that a
critical examination of rational courses of study in the schools would
show that little of the work could well be omitted; that nearly all
contributes toward the end of a well-rounded education, indeed is
necessary to that end; and that the training of faculty is only well
begun at the end of the high-school course. Even the study of the
classics, besides other incidental advantages, trains the critical
powers, refines the taste, and is in an important sense a subjective
study. The inference is that, with less of general education, the
forces of one’s being would not be properly trained and marshalled for
active service in life.
If we define practical education as that which is capable of being
turned to use or account, a high degree of general education before the
special is eminently practical, inasmuch as it broadens and heightens
a man’s possibilities. Moreover, it is of service to all that even a
few should be educated ideally. Such education places ideals before
men which tend to elevate them. We cannot easily estimate the value to
the world of a genius, one of those men who stand on nature’s heights
and see with clear vision, and proclaim the glories of their view to
listening men, who picture at least feebly the things described. They
are the heralds of new events, the inspirers of progress. A highly
educated man, though not a genius, in a way may occupy a similar place,
and may repay by his influence, many times, in practical ways, the
expense of his education. Societies of laborers are already beginning
to ascribe their troubles in part to lack of education, and are
looking to education as a means of improving their condition. General
education is practical education.
While every boy should be taught to earn a living, this should not
be done needlessly at the expense of the higher development of the
faculties. Too much attention to the practical dwarfs the powers,
limits the horizon, and will result in the destruction of that spirit
which makes a strong national character. There is little need to urge
the practical; the more immediate and obvious motives constantly
draw men toward it. The refinements of the soul are at first less
inviting; they are hard to gain and easy to lose. Carlyle says: “By
our skill in Mechanism, it has come to pass that, in the management of
external things, we excel all other ages, while in whatever respects
the pure moral nature, in true dignity of soul and character, we are,
perhaps, inferior to most civilized ages.... The infinite, absolute
character of Virtue has passed into a finite, conditioned one; it is no
longer a worship of the Beautiful and Good, but a calculation of the
profitable.... Our true deity is Mechanism. It has subdued external
nature for us, and we think it will do all other things.” Carlyle
possessed a true insight when he penned these words. Popular demands
tend to make the age more unpoetic than it is. In this age the tourney
has been converted into a fair; the vision of the poet is obscured by
the smoke of factories; Apollo no longer leads the Immortal Nine upon
Parnassus; and we would dethrone the gods from Olympus.
* * * * *
Men and peoples have made permanent contributions to the world’s
progress, not by military achievement or accumulation of wealth, but by
the something better called culture. The glory of the Greeks lay not
in their civil wars, but in the spirit brought to the defence of their
country at Thermopylæ; not in the cost and use of their temples and
statuary, but in the art that found expression in them; not in their
commerce, but in the lofty views of their philosophers and the skill of
their poets. Men admire that which ennobles, without thought of price
or utility, and the world still demands liberal education. Literature
and philosophy have much more in them for the average student than has
yet been gained from them. The æsthetic side of literature is too often
condemned or neglected. There is genuine education in all æsthetic
power, even in the lower form of appreciation of the ludicrous, the
power to observe fine distinctions of incongruity. We say a thing is
perfectly ludicrous, perfectly grotesque, and thereby recognize the
art idea, namely, perfection in execution. Man is always striving to
attain the perfect in some form, and the art idea is one of the highest
in the field of education. Art leans toward the side of feeling, but
is none the less rich and valuable for that. Shakespeare furnishes
some of the highest types of art in literature. The flow of his verse,
the light beauty of his sonnets, the boldness and wonderful aptness of
his metaphors, the skill of his development, the ever-varying types,
the humor, the joys, the sorrows, the wisdom, the folly of men, the
condensation of events and traits and experiences in individual types,
the philosophical and prophetic insight, the artistic whole of his
plays, constitute a rich field of education.
The Gothic cathedral, with its pointed arch, its mullioned window,
tapering spire, and upward-running lines, indicating the hope and
aspiration of the middle ages, with its cruciform shape, typical of
the faith of the Christian, is more than the stone and mortar of
which it is constructed. The truly educated man in art perceives the
adaptation, polish, and perfection in literature; discovers the grace,
the just proportions, the ideal form and typical idea in sculpture;
views the expression, grouping, sentiment, coloring, and human passion
in painting; enjoys the harmonies, movements, and ideas in music,
that combination of effects that makes subtile and evasive metaphors;
discovers the conventionalized forms and mute symbols, the “frozen
music” of architecture; finds grandeur in the mountains, glory in the
sunset, metaphors of thought in every form of nature; laughs with the
morning breeze, finds strength in the giant oak, and sorrow in the
drooping willow.
We need the ideal. Let us not permit the mortal body to lord it
too much over the immortal spirit. The ideal man is the purpose of
education and the aim of existence, or life is not worth living. All
material prosperity is naught except as contributing to that end.
Sympathetic spirits are calling for more enlightenment and enjoyment,
and leisure for the laboring classes. They believe that men should
be men as well as machines, and that, if they are educated ideally,
the practical will take care of itself. If we retain our belief in
the high possibilities of the human soul, we shall have faith in
ideal education, and shall confidently offer every opportunity for
the highest development possible of the child’s power for knowledge,
enjoyment, and action. And let his development be full and rounded.
Let the roar of ocean and the sough of the pines make music for his
ears as well as the whir of factories; let the starry heavens speak to
his soul as vividly as the electric lamp to his eye. Let us evolve from
the material present ideals that shall stand in place of the vanished
ones.