Classical Studies.
Much has been written within the last few decades for and against the
value of the study of the classical languages and literature.[578] Some
writers, especially fanatical advocates of “modern” culture, see in the
humanistic school only a gloomy ruin of the time of the renaissance,
which stands in the midst of the grand structures of modern culture,
half monastery, half pagan temple. Latin and Greek philologists have
built their nests in its dilapidated walls, like owls that shun the
bright light of day, and in the dusk they flutter about to frighten and
torment poor children with their cries of monstrous Latin and Greek
forms. Others, the one-sided admirers of the “practical” studies, above
all of the natural sciences, decry the classical studies as useless,
because they do not teach the rising generation how to build bridges or
war vessels, how to make aniline colors, or how to utilize best the oil
fields of Texas, or the Western prairies. These men do not appreciate
classical studies because, to use the words of Brownson, they cannot
reduce them immediately to any corresponding value in United States
currency. They would rather fill their pockets with Attic _oboli_ and
_drachmae_ than their brains with Attic thought. In a word, to them
education is only the wild race after the hen that lays the golden
eggs. All other requirements they count for nothing. Such views are
based on an utter misconception of the intellectual scope of education,
and on sheer ignorance of the educational value of the classics. This
point we endeavor to illustrate in the present chapter.
The Society of Jesus has always valued classical studies most highly.
In the preface to his _Ratio Discendi et Docendi_, Father Jouvancy
says: “Any one acquainted with the Society of Jesus knows how highly
she always esteemed the classical studies.” Of late the Society has
even been censured for clinging tenaciously to them, as to a venerable,
but now out-of-date, curriculum. Be it remarked from the very outset,
that the Society upholds the classical curriculum not because this is
the old traditional system, but because it has so far proved the best
means of training the mind, which is the one great end of education.
The various branches of studies are the means to this end. Should other
means prove better than the classical languages, the Jesuits would
not hesitate to accept them. They would teach, let us say French and
German, instead of Latin and Greek.[579] They would not have to change
their system, they would apply it only to the new branches. And the
much lauded new method of teaching modern languages by practice and
exercise, is essentially what the Ratio Studiorum has insisted on all
along. However, the Jesuits are not so short-sighted as to claim for
the classical studies the educational monopoly which these studies held
in former ages. It cannot be denied that the so-called modern high
school, which has a curriculum of English, some other modern languages,
mathematics, and natural sciences, answers to particular needs of our
age. It is especially fitted for those who want to devote only a few
years to study after the completion of the elementary course. For this
reason the Jesuits have opened in various countries such “modern high
schools,” v. g. the _Institut St. Ignace_, Antwerp. In some of these
schools they employ for many branches secular professional teachers,
for instance in the successful “army class” attached to the College
at Wimbledon, England. Still they think that the best preparation for
the professions and for all who wish to exert a far-reaching influence
on their fellow-men, is the complete classical course, together with
mathematics, history, and a certain amount of natural sciences. They
think, and with much reason, that the classical studies even at present
should form the backbone of liberal education. They think, with many
other prominent educators, that the humanistic studies train the _man_,
whereas the sciences train the _specialist_.
This is not the place to discuss fully the question of the value of
the study of Latin and Greek for liberal education or general culture.
Still, we cannot refrain from enumerating a few testimonies in their
favor; and that they may be the more effective, we shall exclude those
of professors of classical languages, who in this matter might be
looked upon as prejudiced witnesses who speak _pro domo sua_. Many
interesting statements were made some ten years ago by the ablest
schoolmen of Germany in the famous Berlin Conference preparatory to
the “New Plan of Studies” for the Higher Schools of Prussia, which
was promulgated in 1892.[580] The relative educational value of the
various branches was discussed most thoroughly, and it is surprising
to find what professors of mathematics, natural sciences, and medicine
have to say in favor of classical studies. Dr. Holzmüller, Director of
a commercial and industrial school, said: “I am a mathematician and
professor of mathematics, a thorough Realist, but I sound a warning
against exaggerating the educational value of mathematics in higher
schools. The range of thought and ideas in mathematical studies is
narrow; whereas the linguistic studies have many more forms of thought
at their disposal.”[581] Professor Helmholtz of the University of
Berlin, one of the leading scientists of the nineteenth century, said
in the same conference: “The study of the ancient languages alone
has so far proved to be the best means of imparting the best mental
culture.”[582] As a proof he gives his own experience in the physical
laboratory of the Berlin University, where the students that had made
the classical course, after one year’s laboratory work surpassed those
who had made the so-called science course (_Realschulen_), although the
latter had studied much more natural science than the former. Professor
Virchow, one of the greatest medical authorities, although strongly
opposed to the then prevailing methods of the gymnasium, made a plea
for the classical studies, saying that “the dropping of Latin would
prove most dangerous and injurious to the medical profession.” It is a
well known fact that this famous pathologist, who died but a few months
ago, was an enthusiastic student and admirer of Greek Literature.
The verdict of these scholars was based on personal experience made
at the University of Berlin some years before. In 1899, seven years
after Latin had suffered a severe loss in consequence of the School
Order of 1892, Professor Virchow bitterly complained in the German
Parliament, that “grammar had been kicked out of the gymnasia, and with
it logic.”[583]
The graduates of the German schools which deal with practical
subjects, and prepare students for commercial pursuits, or for entrance
into polytechnic institutes, were at first debarred from entrance into
the universities, being considered unqualified for university work;
but in 1870 they were admitted, on equal terms with the graduates of
classical schools, to the philosophical department of the universities.
After ten years trial of this plan the philosophical faculty of
the University of Berlin addressed to the Ministry of Instruction
a memorandum, which is declared to be the most powerful plea ever
made in behalf of classical studies. They declared unhesitatingly
that the students of the practical schools were not fitted to pursue
a university course on a par with the graduates of the classical
schools, and that, if the plan was reversed, German scholarship would
soon be a thing of the past. Even the representatives of science and
modern languages in the faculty joined heartily in this judgment. In
specifying the reasons why the admission of the non-classical graduate
was injurious to the interests of higher education, the thirty-six
professors mentioned slower development, superficial knowledge, lack of
independent judgment, inferiority in private research, less dexterity,
want of keenness, and defective power of expression.
Since 1890 new and significant results were obtained in Germany,
which prove that the classical course, besides the better liberal
training which it imparts, is no less fitted as a preparation for
technical studies than the courses pursued in the _Real-Gymnasium_
and the _Oberrealschule_. This was attested in the last Berlin
Conference (1900), by professors of the Technical Institutes. The
Professors of the Technical Institutes, v. g. of Aix-la-Chapelle,
adduced statistics to this effect from their respective schools.[584]
Professor Launhart of the Technical Institute (_Hochschule_) of Hanover
stated that, from 1890-99, 1209 candidates were examined; 583 from
the humanistic gymnasium, 588 from the _Real-Gymnasium_, and 31 from
the _Oberrealschule_. The results of the examinations proved that the
different courses had been equally efficient in preparing pupils for
the technical studies. Be it remembered that the humanistic gymnasium
devotes less time to mathematics and natural sciences, studies
specially required for the technical schools, than the other two kinds
of schools. This result, therefore, speaks very well for the solid
mental training of the classical schools.
Still more interesting are the statements of Dr. Vogt, who is
professor of mathematics in parallel classes of the humanistic
_Gymnasium_ and the _Reform-Gymnasium_ at Breslau. This position gives
him an exceptional opportunity to compare the results of the two
systems. In the lower classes of the Reform-School French is taught,
in the humanistic gymnasium Latin. Professor Vogt and his colleagues
made the following observations in the third class (_Quarta_): In 124
hours of the Reform-School they could not achieve more than in the
84 hours of the Latin course. Age, talent, and other conditions of
the students were compared, and it was found that all in all the two
classes were equal. Does it not necessarily follow from this fact that
French does not afford the same mental training as Latin? Professor
Vogt maintains in general, that the pupils of the gymnasium acquire
less in mathematics than those of the _Real-Schulen_, if the _extent_
of knowledge is considered, but that their knowledge of mathematics is
more _intense_, more thorough. This he ascribes to the more intense
and more thorough training that Latin affords.[585] In fact, this
contention is amply proved by the above mentioned results obtained in
the Technical Institutes.
The following testimony of a distinguished German writer, who had
a large experience in this matter, may claim the attention of all
educators. Dr. Karl Hildebrand writes: “If it were conceivable that
a youth should entirely forget all the facts, pictures, and ideas he
has learned from the classics, together with all the rules of Latin
and Greek grammar, his mind would still, as an instrument, be superior
to that of one who has not passed through the same training.[586] To
give an example, I may state that in my quality of inspector it was my
duty to visit a very large number of French _lycées_ and _colleges_,
each of which is usually connected with an _école speciale_ or
_professionelle_, and here I found that the classical pupils, without
exception, acquired more English and German than the others, in less
than a quarter of the time. (The time devoted to living languages was
six hours a week for four years in the special, and only one hour and
a half a week for three years in the classical schools.) The same
fact struck me in my visits to the German, Belgium, Dutch, and Swiss
colleges.... A similar experience may be gathered from practical life.
One of the first bankers in a foreign capital lately told me that in
the course of a year he had given some thirty scholars--who had been
educated expressly for commerce in commercial schools--a trial in his
offices, and was not able to make use of a single one of them, while
those who came from the grammar schools, although they knew nothing
whatever of business matters to begin with, soon made themselves
masters of them.”[587]
The same evidence may be given for England. English papers, on
the experience of leading English firms, combated the idea that a
university degree was of no use to a man intended for business.[588]
Mr. Bryce, no mean authority on this subject, concludes the article in
which he advocates a special commercial training, with this significant
remark: “This paper is not designed to argue on behalf of what is
called a modern or non-classical education. I am not one of those who
think that either the ancient languages, or what are called ‘literary’
or ‘humanistic’ subjects, play too large a part in our schools, either
in England or in the United States. On the contrary, I believe (basing
myself on such observations as I have been able to make) that Latin and
Greek, when properly taught, are superior as instruments of education
to any modern language, and that ‘literary’ subjects, as history, are
on the whole more efficient stimulants to the mind (taking an average
of minds) than mathematics or natural science.”[589]
If Mr. Huntington, the late railroad king, disapproved of colleges,
because their training unfitted the young men for practical life, and
discounted their chances for becoming millionaires, the right answer
seems to have been given by President Jones of Hobart College. “Boys
who have followed science, mathematics, and literature to their best
results, are not, upon graduation, anxious to be brokers’ runners or
bank clerks at five or ten dollars per week, and do not exhibit a
dawdling inaccuracy, whatever their pursuits. The fresh graduate Mr.
Huntington complained of has usually ‘skinned through college,’ and
has been unsatisfactory there also.”[590] He was one of the “students”
who found football reports more enticing than the Latin and Greek
classics; hence “their shortcomings and their commercial inefficiency
are evidently not the results and handicaps of scholarship.”
Here we must add that the popular argument against the classical
studies is very superficial. We hear it often said: Of what use are
these studies? Men in after life mostly throw aside Latin and Greek;
there are exceedingly few who after leaving school take a classical
author into their hands. Let us grant it. But does it not follow, then,
that the study of mathematics and natural sciences is equally useless
except for those who become engineers or chemists? Or who, except a
professional mathematician, ever in after life looks at logarithms,
equations and the like? But there are many instances on record of men
in prominent positions who with pleasure returned to the classics,
which they had learned to cherish in college. We may quote one instance
of a Jesuit pupil, whose name is indelibly engraved in the annals of
American history, we refer to Charles Carroll, of Carrollton. Bishop
England says of him: “I have known men who, during protracted lives,
found in the cultivation of the classical literature that relaxation
which improved, whilst it relieved the mind. The last survivor of those
who pledged their lives and fortunes, and nobly redeemed their sacred
honor in the achievement of our glorious inheritance of liberty, was
a striking instance of this. When nearly fourscore years had passed
away from the period of his closing the usual course of his classical
education--after the perils of a revolution, after the vicissitudes
of party strife, when the decay of his faculties warned him of the
near approach of that hour when he should render an account of his
deeds to that Judge who was to decide his fate for eternity, from his
more serious occupations of prayer and self-examination, and from the
important concern of managing and dividing his property, would Charles
Carroll, of Carrollton, turn for refreshment to those classic authors
with whom he had been familiar through life:--his soul would still feel
emotion at the force of Tully’s eloquence, or melt at Virgil’s pastoral
strain.”[591]
This much is certain from what has been said so far, that the
advocates of “practical” studies indulge in a grave delusion when they
object to the classical studies. Their usefulness even for a commercial
and political career is undeniable, as President Stryker of Hamilton
College pointed out in 1901. He said, it should be remembered that
the best preparation for a practical and useful life is in the high
development of the powers of the mind, and that, commonly, by a culture
that is not considered practical. The great parliamentary orators in
the days of George III. were remarkable for the intellectual grasp
and resource they displayed in the entire world of letters, in the
classics, in ancient and modern history. Yet all of them owed their
development to a strictly classical training in the schools. And
most of them had not only the gift of imagination necessary to great
eloquence, but also had so profited by the mental discipline of the
classics, that they handled the practical questions upon which they
legislated with clearness and decision. The great masters of finance
were the classically trained orators, William Pitt and Charles James
Fox. Such an education puts no premium upon haste, nor does it discount
future power by an immature substitution of learning for training.
It is structural towards the whole man, and seeks to issue him, not
“besmeared, but bessemered.” It considers the capable metal more than
the commercial false edge. Self-realization is the end.[592]
The testimonies given so far undoubtedly outweigh the contemptuous
charges which sometimes are hurled against colleges and higher
education, by a few “self-made” men, who boast of their ignorance and
proudly point to the millions which they were able to amass without any
liberal education. These men and some other worshippers of the ‘golden
calf’ frequently ask: “Of what use is the study of the classics? What
can I do with Greek?” We have heard that the study of the classics
is of very great use, also for practical life, and the fact that
a few have become rich without them, does in no way prove against
their usefulness. But let us for a moment entirely abstract from the
utilitarian point of view and rise to higher conceptions of life. Too
much has the spirit of the market place invaded the field of education;
and the interests of a liberal training have too often been sacrificed
to an insatiate commercialism. Is the highest goal of intellectual
and social life nothing but the rearing of a few millionaires? No,
there must be a higher aim of education, for the nation as well as the
individual. A nation that aims at nothing but industrial and commercial
expansion, neglecting the higher ideals of mankind, may flourish for a
time, but will not contribute much to real civilization. History has
proved this. Take the Carthaginians; for a considerable length of time
they held the commercial supremacy among the nations. Even intellect
there was in the service of capital. The economical principles of a
later and more advanced epoch are found by us in Carthage alone of all
the more considerable states of antiquity.[593] But not this “nation of
shop-keepers” has civilized the world, but poor Greece, whose culture,
continued into the literature of Rome, together with the studies which
it involves, has been the instrument of education, and the food of
civilization, from the first times of the world down to this day.[594]
May we not find a lesson in this fact? This country has made marvellous
strides in industrial and commercial enterprise, but should it not aim
at becoming a leader in the world of science, literature and art? In
order to assume this leadership, the country must aim at thoroughness
in education, and at solid, productive scholarship.[595] Now, so far
the classical studies have proved the best basis of thorough education
and solid scholarship, and doubtless will continue to do so in the
future. The inference from this seems to be evident.
Fortunately, in this country, a reaction seems to have set in against
the realistic tendency of our secondary schools, and people who have
the real education of the nation at heart, are more and more converted
to the conviction that the classical studies are most useful, if not
necessary, for a liberal culture. It will be interesting to hear
what the great journalist, Charles A. Dana, thought of the relation
of classical studies to journalism. In a lecture delivered at Union
College, Schenectady, N. Y., October 13, 1893, he said: “Give the
young man (who is entering upon journalism) _a first class course
of general education_: and if I could have my own way, every young
man who is going to be a newspaper man, and who is not absolutely
rebellious against it, should learn _Greek_ and _Latin after the good
old fashion_. I would rather take a young fellow who knows the _Ajax_
of Sophocles, and who has read Tacitus, and who can scan every Ode of
Horace--I would take him to report a prizefight, or a spelling match,
for instance, than to take one who has never had these advantages.”[596]
Professor West of Princeton University stated in 1899 that a change of
profound significance is taking place in our secondary schools.[597]
This change is an improvement, but in reality it is a return to the
‘old-fashioned’ classical courses, and the writer aptly styles it a
‘New Revival.’ As one important cause of the change now in progress he
assigns dissatisfaction with former school programmes of study. There
were too many studies crowded into the programme. In other words,
American opinion is moving steadily, and irresistibly, toward the
sound elementary and elemental conviction that the best thing for the
mass of pupils in secondary schools is a programme consisting of a few
well-related studies of central importance, instead of a miscellany.
Is there sufficient evidence, then, that this tendency of things is
becoming strongly marked among us? Is attention being more and more
concentrated on a few well-related leading studies which have been
important in the best modern education? Let us see. Take out all the
secondary studies for which statistics are available from 1889-90 to
1897-98:
Enrollment Enrollment Perc’t’ge of
Studies. in ’89-90. in ’97-98. Increase.
1. Latin 100,144 274,293 174
2. History (except U. S.) 82,909 209,034 152
3. Geometry 59,781 147,515 147
4. Algebra 127,397 306,755 141
5. German 34,208 78,994 131
6. French 28,032 58,165 107
7. Greek 12,689 24,994 94
8. Physics 63,644 113,650 79
9. Chemistry 28,665 47,448 65
The importance of the figures is the more evident when we bear in
mind that the rate of increase in the total enrollment of pupils from
297,894 in 1889-90 to 554,814 in 1897-98 is 86 per cent. But certain
studies are growing faster than this; some of them much faster. _Latin,
to the surprise of many, heads the list with its literally enormous
gain of 174 per cent., a rate fully double the 86 per cent. which
represents the eight year increase in the total number of pupils._ Next
comes history with 152 per cent., then the two mathematical disciplines
(geometry with 147 and algebra with 141), and then German with 131.
After these we find French with 107, and Greek with 94. All these and
only these exceed the average. Physics and chemistry close the list
somewhat below. Prominent educators all the world over hail this “new
revival” as one of the most promising signs of the educational movement
in America.
The foregoing pages contain sufficient proof that the Ratio Studiorum
does not need any defence for giving such prominence to the study
of the classical languages, especially to Latin. On the contrary,
it speaks well for the educational wisdom of the Jesuits that for
about a century, despite the sneers of many modern school reformers,
they firmly upheld that method to which the more prudent educators
steadfastly adhered, and to which others, after roaming about far and
wide, now wish to return.
It may be asked why the study of the classical languages is the best
means of intellectual training and universal culture. The reasons are
manifold. The first is the very fact for which this study is frequently
attacked, namely, that these languages are dead languages. “They are
not the language of common life. They are not picked up by instinct
and without reflection. Everything has to be learned by system, rule,
and formula. The relations of grammar and logic must be attended to
with deliberation. Thought and judgment are constantly exercised in
assigning the exact equivalents of the mother tongue for every phrase
of the original. The coincidence of construction is too little, the
community of idiomatic thought too remote, for the boy’s mind to catch
at the idea, by force of that preestablished harmony which exists among
most modern tongues. Only the law of thought and logic guides him,
with the assistance of a teacher to lead the way, and reassure his
struggling conception.”[598]
This, then, is the first point of the study of the classical
languages: _logical training_, training that leads to correct and clear
thinking, to close and sharp reasoning.[599] The study of Latin is
better adapted to accomplish this effect than any other language; for,
whereas Greek is more delicately organized, more beautiful and poetic,
the Latin is perhaps the more systemically elaborated tongue. In its
severe syntax it participates in some of the striking qualities of
the Roman character, which seems to have been fitted to legislate, to
govern, and to command, as the great poet has it:
“O Rome, ’tis thine alone with awful sway
To rule mankind and make the world obey.”[600]
The study of Latin requires such application of various rules and
laws that it forces the student to the closest attention, to rigorous
mental discipline. The processes of reasoning which are, at least
implicitly, to be gone through, in translating an English sentence into
Latin, are ample proof of this statement. Suppose a pupil has to render
the following sentence into correct Latin: “As soon as you arrive at
Philadelphia, give him the letter, to prevent him from going to New
York.” He will probably start: _As soon as_: _ubi primum_; _arrive_
is _pervenire_, or _advenire_. Now what tense? _Ubi primum_, together
with _postquam_, etc., is construed with the Perfect Indicative. But
wait, does it always take the Perfect? No, only when a single past fact
is related; is this the case here? That depends on the tense of the
verb in the principal clause: it is _give_. What tense? It is properly
the present tense, but has reference to the future. Therefore, the
whole clause does not express a past but a future fact. In English
_arrive_ is present tense, but in Latin the use of tenses is much more
accurate; if the action of principal and dependent clauses are both
future, they must be expressed by a future tense. Now _arrive_ has a
future meaning; therefore a future tense. But which of the two? First
or second? That depends on the nature of the action; if the verb of the
dependent clause denotes an action antecedent to that of the principal
clause, it must be put in the tense which denotes antecedence. Now,
let us see: the _arriving_ at Philadelphia necessarily antecedes the
_giving_ of the letter; consequently I have to use the second future,
the _futurum exactum_: _ubi primum_--_venio_, Perfect _veni_--well:
_perveneris_. _At Philadelphia_; _at_ is _in_; however, names of cities
are construed without a preposition, they are used in the _locativus_,
which in singular nouns of the 1st and 2nd declensions is like the
Genitive case, therefore _Philadelphiae_. But is there not a rule
about _advenire_, _pervenire_, _congregari_, etc.? They mean _going
towards_, _into_, therefore I must use the construction answering the
question: _whither_, therefore _Philadelphiam_. Very well. Now: _give
him the letter_; _give_: _trade_, _da_; _him_: _eum_, but stop--_eum_
is direct object, while in the given sentence _him_ is indirect,
so it must be _ei_, _trade ei epistolam_.--_To prevent_, is the
infinitive, here it expresses a purpose. Clauses denoting purpose are
not expressed by the infinitive in Latin prose, but by _ut_, _causa_
with the gen. of the Gerund, or _ad_ with the accusative, etc.; take
_ut_: but attend to the sequence of tenses!--_impedias eum_; from
going: _a proficiscendo_? No! but: _quominus_ or _ne proficiscatur_.
To New York--_Neo-Eboraco_?--Very often pupils use the Dative, not
having been instructed from the beginning about the difference of _to_,
meaning _towards_, _into_, and _to_, meaning _for the benefit_, _in the
interest of_; here _Neo-Eboracum_. Now the sentence is complete: _Ubi
primum Philadelphiam adveneris, epistolam ei trade ut impedias eum,
quominus Neo-Eboracum proficiscatur._
Is it not surprising how much intellectual labor is spent, and well
spent, in translating that little sentence?[601] How many syllogisms
were formed, or are at least implied? Père Fabri, a French Jesuit
teacher, wrote in 1669: “Besides literary accomplishments gained from
the study of the classical languages there are other advantages to be
derived, especially an exquisite power and facility of reasoning. For
in the writing of verses, in the examination of words and contents,
a constant analysis and combination is required which helps the mind
wonderfully to sound reasoning.”[602] Indeed, the study of these
languages is a course of applied logic. Immanent logic has been called
the characteristic of the Latin language and its grammar.[603] “Latin
grammar,” says Dr. Karl Hildebrand, “is a course of logic presented in
an almost tangible form. Let us only remember how an idea so abstract
as that of subject and object is rendered palpable by the _s_ and
_m_.” We said, the labor was well spent. For, a student who has thus
been trained will acquire the habit of clear thinking. When a doctor,
he will in a given case reason similarly, though not in that cumbrous
form, but pass in a moment, unconsciously, because from habit, through
various syllogisms, and examine whether this or that remedy will
have the desired effect. A patient should naturally have much more
confidence in such a doctor, than in one who has not had the advantage
of the same logical training. The results will be similar in the case
of a lawyer, a politician, a business man, a writer. The father in the
fable told his sons that there was a treasure hidden in his vineyard.
They began to dig the vineyard once, twice, and oftener, in the hope of
finding the treasure. No chests of gold, no bags filled with good coin,
appeared; but in the following year the vineyard yielded immeasurably
more than ever before. Here was the treasure the wise father meant
them to seek after. The same holds good in education. The man in
later life may never again use his Latin or Greek, still the study of
these languages has turned up the soil in the field of his intellect,
fertilized it, and if now it yields a rich harvest, the result is to a
great extent due to that patient digging, although he himself may not,
and in most cases does not, realize to what source his success in life
is to be ascribed.
But the logical training acquired by translating from or into the
ancient languages, although a most important result, is by no means
the only benefit of the study of those languages. There is, besides
this formal side, the _historical_. The Latin and Greek literatures
present to us at first hand all the great masterpieces of antiquity,
which have inspired directly or indirectly most of what is really
great and noble in modern literature. Most deservedly, therefore, have
the classical studies been styled the ABC of all higher studies.[604]
Latin especially is, as Professor Paulsen styles it, “the gate to the
great historical world. No one who wishes to move in wider circles of
historical life can do without Latin.” For similar reasons Director
Jäger maintained the necessity of classical lore for the man who wishes
to possess a title to real scientific preparation for higher studies.
In the last Berlin Conference on higher education, 1900, there was
probably no point so strongly insisted on as the necessity of Latin
for all men who lay any claim to culture. Professor Harnack claimed
that the humanistic training seemed to him especially necessary for
all who had any great influence on their fellow-men and on the social
and political life of a nation.[605] Arnold had expressed a similar
opinion when he said: “Expel Greek and Latin from your schools, and
you confine the views of the existing generation to themselves and
their immediate predecessors, you will cut off so many centuries of the
world’s experience, and place us in the same state as if the human race
had first come into existence in the year 1500.”[606]
There is, in the _third_ place, what we may call the _literary_
and _aesthetic_ momentum. When through means of grammatical studies
the pupil is sufficiently prepared, he begins to read the greatest
masterpieces of literature. Gradually he becomes intimately acquainted
with some of the maturest minds of all ages, provided the teaching is
carried on in the proper form, i. e. if the authors are read not to
furnish merely material for grammatical drill, but in such a manner
that the contents of the authors form the central part of the whole
instruction, that the author begins to live, that the persons seem to
act and speak before the eye of the student. He is thus introduced
to one great author after another. First comes Caesar, whose plain
but vigorous style is the true image of the great Roman general and
statesman, who changed the greatest of republics into an Empire. Then
appears Xenophon with his lifelike descriptions; Livy with his eloquent
history of Rome, full of ardent patriotism; then Cicero, the most
gifted and versatile of all the Romans, with his brilliant style, his
sparkling wit, his cutting irony and stern denunciation of corruption.
Then the student admires Ovid’s elegant verses, Virgil’s grand and
stately lines, Horace’s refined and tasteful stanzas. Then rises
before him the great philosopher Plato, who portrays in fascinating
dialogues the wise man of heathen antiquity, Socrates. If properly
taught, but then only, the student is sure, after the struggle of a few
months, to form an intimate friendship with the ‘Father of Poetry’,
immortal Homer. He will soon realize the greatness of the blind old
man, who lived in the mouths of a hundred generations and a thousand
tribes; who, as Cardinal Newman says, “may be called the first apostle
of civilization;” whose Odyssey and Iliad formed a source of purest
enjoyment to many of the greatest men of history: to Alexander the
Great, Napoleon, Newman, Gladstone, and countless others. We could
continue and mention the powerful harangues of the prince of orators,
Demosthenes, the grand and soul-stirring tragedies of Aeschylus and
Sophocles. But we have enumerated enough to show what wealth and
variety of intellectual food is placed before the classical student in
the course of a few years. By these studies his aesthetical sense is
developed, he acquires imperceptibly that precious gift, which we call
taste.
Sometimes we hear it said that a good _translation_ of these Greek
authors would give us all the advantages we may derive from the study
of the original. Any one acquainted with classical literature knows
what to think of this assertion. Translations are, at the best, what
the reproduction of a grammophone is compared to the original concert
or solo. Father Jouvancy has well observed: “Translations of Greek
authors, even if they are accurate, seldom render the force, beauty,
and other striking qualities of the original. It is always better to
draw drinking water from the source; the further it runs from the
source, the more it is contaminated, and the more it loses its original
taste.”[607]
This opinion is confirmed by the judgment of many modern writers.
Thus Sterne says: “The most excellent profane authors, whether Greek
or Latin, lose most of their graces whenever we find them literally
translated. In the classical authors, the expressions, the sweetness of
numbers, occasioned by a musical placing of words, constitute a great
part of their beauties.”[608] Mr. Genung, Professor of Rhetoric in
Amherst College, speaks thus of the “Untranslatable” in literature: “In
all the higher achievements of literature there must necessarily remain
a great deal that, in spite of the utmost skill, cannot be adequately
reproduced in another language. The thought may indeed survive, though
marred and mutilated, but the subtle spiritual aroma, the emotional
essence perishes in the transmission. This is preeminently true of
poetry. George Henry Lewes, in his _Life of Goethe_, says: ‘In its
happiest efforts, translation is but approximation; and its efforts
are not often happy. A translation may be good _as_ translation, but
it cannot be an adequate reproduction of the original.’”[609] To
single out one instance: there exist numerous translations of Homer’s
Iliad and Odyssey, in prose and verse. And yet, any one familiar with
the most important poetical monument existing[610] can trace but few
remains of the graces which charmed him in the original. Cowper and
Wright have failed in rendering Homer’s rapidity; Pope and Sotheby have
failed in rendering his plainness and directness of style and diction;
Chapman has failed in rendering his plainness and directness of ideas;
and for want of appreciating Homer’s nobleness, Newman has failed more
conspicuously than any of his predecessors. Some passages of Pope’s
translation exhibit the translator’s prodigious talent. But as Bentley
said: “You must not call it Homer.” Chapman’s translation is praised by
Coleridge, who, however, is forced to add: “It will give you a small
idea of Homer.” Dr. Maginn’s Homeric Ballads are vigorous poems in
their own way, but as a Homeric translation very often nothing more
than a travesty.[611] Similar objections may be raised against any of
the other translations of classical poems.
A _fourth_ advantage which the classical studies possess over
mathematics and natural sciences, consists in the _moral_ or _ethical_
element, in the many examples they present of the natural virtues,
examples of heroic patriotism, of filial devotion, and dutifulness.
The example of Socrates, dying in obedience to what he considers
the voice of God, of chaste Penelope, of faithful Eumaeus, and of
many other characters depicted so vividly and graphically with the
inimitable simplicity and skill of the ancient writers, cannot fail
to produce an elevating, ennobling and purifying effect on the hearts
of the young; these examples show us that the sense of moral beauty
was left in mankind even in the midst of the darkness and corruption
of paganism. What have the other branches of study, mathematics and
natural sciences, to offer that could be compared to this? Mathematics
is an excellent means of developing logical thinking, but there its
efficiency stops, it has, as professors of mathematics have said, “a
narrow range of thoughts and ideas.” It certainly does not inspire,
does not elevate. Or whose heart has ever become warmed or ennobled by
fully grasping the Pythagorean system, or by developing (_a_ + _b_)³ or
any other algebraic formula? Whose aesthetic or moral sense has been
refined by analyzing FeS + H_{2}SO_{4} = FeSO_{4} + H_{2}S, or other
chemical equations? Mathematics and natural sciences are justly called
by the Germans _Realfächer_; they impart practical, useful knowledge,
but not ideal, not liberal culture. Newman has well expressed this
difference: “When an idea, whether it is real or not, is of a nature
to interest and possess the mind, it is said to have life, that is,
to live in the mind which is the recipient of it. Thus mathematical
ideas, real as they are, cannot be called living, for they have no
influence and lead to nothing.”[612] The same applies more or less to
the natural sciences, whereas the very opposite holds good of the study
of literature and history.
In the _fifth_ place we mention the gain classical studies yield
to the _mother-tongue_. This is very important for a thorough and
scholarly understanding of the English language, as two thirds or
more of the English vocabulary are words derived from Latin. But the
principal gain in knowledge of the mother-tongue is derived from
careful, idiomatic translations into the vernacular. If translations
are made regularly and accurately, there is little need of giving
special instructions on English grammar and style. In the Berlin
Conference of 1890 some of the leading men, among them Professor
Helmholtz, emphasized this point, saying that “good and idiomatic
translations are an instruction in the German language, which cannot
be appreciated highly enough.”[613] The great Prussian schoolman Dr.
Wiese had long before expressed himself to the same effect, referring
to the example of Dr. Arnold of Rugby, who saw in good translation
the best preparation for writing excellent English. “Whenever it is
attended to,” says Dr. Arnold, “it [translation] is an exercise of
exceeding value; it is in fact one of the best modes of instruction in
English composition, because the constant comparison with the different
idioms of the languages, from which you are translating, shows you in
the most lively manner the peculiar excellence and defects of your
own.”[614] In another passage he writes: “Every lesson in Latin and
Greek may, or ought to be made a lesson in English; the translation
of every sentence in Demosthenes or Tacitus is properly an exercise
in extemporaneous English composition; a problem how to express with
equal brevity, clearness and force in our own language the thought
which the original author has so admirably expressed in his.” “The
practice of translating,” says James Russell Lowell, “by making us
deliberate in the choice of the best equivalent of the foreign word in
our own language, has likewise the advantage of schooling us in one of
the main elements of a good style--precision.”[615] “The old theory is
now reviving _that the teaching of English in the modern fashion is of
little value_, and that the old method of teaching Latin grammar, and
allowing English to take care of itself, is really sounder and more
practical.”[616]
Similar are the words of a prominent schoolman of this country, Mr.
Nightingale, Superintendent of High Schools, Chicago. In the _Report
of the Conference on English_, read before the National Association of
Education at Asbury Park, N. J., 1894, he says: “I would have children
at the age of ten or eleven years commence the study of that language
which in the fields of persuasion and philosophy, of literature and
law, is so largely the progenitor of the English--the incomparable
Latin. If we would be strong we must contend with something--resist
something--conquer something. We cannot gain muscle on a bed of
eiderdown. Toying with straws will only enervate the faculties. The
blacksmith’s arm becomes mighty through his ponderous strokes of the
hammer on the anvil. The very facility of the acquisition of the modern
languages precludes the possibility of discipline. Put Latin into
our common schools, and the puzzling problem of English Grammar will
be nearing its solution, for the _why_ that meets the pupil at every
step, the very laboriousness and difficulty of the task, will open the
intellect, develop the powers of discrimination and adaptation, enlarge
the vocabulary, enable the student to write a better English essay, use
a more terse and trenchant style of speech, and grasp with more avidity
and keenness any promulgated form of thought, than if he should spend
quintuple the time on the study of the English Grammar alone.”
Is it not significant that nearly all the great English writers and
orators were ardent admirers and students of the classical languages? A
Pope, a Dryden, an Addison, a Milton, a Burke, a Pitt, a Tennyson and
a Newman, and others? The younger Pitt gives a student the following
advice: “The practice of rendering the Greek and Roman classics into
English, and of committing to memory the most eloquent passages which
occur in reading, is the best exercise in which the young student can
engage. It imparts a command of language, aids him in acquiring a
forcible style, affords the best mental discipline, strengthens the
memory, cultivates his taste, invigorates his intellect, and gives him
a relish for the sublime and beautiful in writing.” Further, the whole
of English literature is so saturated with classical allusions, that
without a fair knowledge of the more important works of Greek and Roman
writers, it is impossible to appreciate fully, or even to understand
the finest productions of English literature. This being the case, we
have another proof that our modern pedagogists, by exaggerating the
claims of the natural sciences beyond all reasonable bounds, are doing
great harm to literature and liberal culture.
Having reviewed the various advantages which the study of the classics
affords, we may well say with one of the greatest minds of the
nineteenth century: Modern methods and sciences, and “their inestimable
services in the interest of our material well-being, have dazzled the
imaginations of men, and since they do wonders in their own province,
it is not unfrequently supposed that they can do as much in any other
province also. But to advance the useful arts is one thing, and to
cultivate the mind another. The simple question to be considered is
how best to strengthen, refine, and enrich the intellectual powers;
the perusal of the poets, historians and philosophers of Greece and
Rome will accomplish this purpose, as long experience has shown; but
that the study of experimental sciences will do the like, is proved
to us as yet by no experience whatever. Far indeed am I from denying
the extreme attractiveness, as well as the practical benefit to the
world at large, of the sciences of chemistry, electricity, and geology;
but the question is not what department of study contains the more
wonderful facts, or promises the more brilliant discoveries, and which
is in the higher and which is in the inferior rank; but simply which
out of all provides the most robust and invigorating discipline for the
unformed mind.... Whatever be the splendors of the modern philosophy,
the marvellousness of its disclosures, the utility of its acquisitions,
and the talents of its masters, still it will not avail in the event,
to detrude classical literature and the studies connected with it from
the place which they have held in all ages in education.”[617] Goethe,
realizing what debt he himself owed to the classics, exclaimed: “Would
that the study of Greek and Roman literature forever remained the basis
of higher education.”[618]
These are the reasons why the Society of Jesus always gave such
prominence to classical studies. She considers them to be among the
“few well-related studies of central importance;”[619] to them she
would apply the words of Dr. Stanley Hall, quoted before: “Only great,
concentrated and prolonged efforts in one direction really train the
mind.” The mind can never be trained by that miscellany of studies
crowded into the programme of our modern systems. Their effects on
youth were ably pointed out seventy years ago by the General of the
Society, Father Roothaan.[620] “In the lower schools [he means grammar
schools and colleges], the object kept in view is to have boys learn as
many things as possible, and learn them in the shortest time and with
the least exertion possible. Excellent! But that variety of so many
things and so many courses, all barely tasted by youth, enables them to
conceive a high opinion of how much they know, and sometimes swells the
crowd of the half instructed, the most pernicious of all classes to the
sciences and the State alike. As to knowing anything truly and solidly,
there is none of it. _Ex omnibus aliquid, in toto nihil_: Something of
everything, nothing in the end. In the method of conducting the lower
studies, some accessory branches should have time provided for them,
especially the vernacular tongues and literatures. But the study of
Latin and Greek must always remain intact and be the chief object of
attention. As they have always been the principal sources of exhibiting
the most perfect models of literary beauty in precept and style, so are
they still.”
Here it is necessary to meet some objections to the Jesuit system.
It is said that, however much the Jesuits insisted on the classical
studies, they directed them to a wrong end. They aimed only at
“formation of style.” “To write in Latin is the ideal they propose
to their pupils.... They direct the pupil’s attention, not to the
thoughts, but to the elegancies of language, to the elocutionary
effort; in a word, to the form.” Thus M. Compayré.[621] Mr. Painter
tells us even that the Jesuits’ “plan” says: “The study of classic
authors can have for us only a secondary end, namely, to form the
style, we wish nothing else. Style will be formed essentially after
Cicero.”[622] What answer can be given to this serious charge? The
answer is a very simple one: the first sentence of Mr. Painter’s
quotation is untrue. That statement of his is nowhere contained in the
whole Ratio, neither literally nor equivalently.[623] The Ratio and
its commentator Jouvancy state expressly that _various_ things are to
be considered in these studies: knowledge of language, of grammar,
of syntax, precepts of rhetoric, style, and varied erudition.[624]
Jouvancy, in the _schemata_ for explaining the authors, has five or
six points, the first is always the interpretation of the meaning, the
_contents_, the linguistic and logical explanation; then rhetorical or
poetical precepts, then general erudition, and lastly Latinity.[625]
This proves how untrustworthy are the quotations of Mr. Painter and of
other critics of the Ratio. The perusal of the commentary of Jouvancy
refutes also in general the charge of “mere formalism.” However, if by
“formal” is meant the general linguistic training,[626] the Society
has always laid great stress on it. Many scholars begin to deplore the
fact that this “formal” training is being neglected too much in the
new schools. “The great linguistic and logical training which results
from solid and properly conducted instruction in grammar, especially
in another language, particularly in Latin and Greek, has of late been
undervalued--the _nemesis_ for it has come already.”[627]
It is true that in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the
Jesuits did not enter as fully into the explanation of the contents
as is demanded at present. But who can blame them for this? It is
true also that they insisted very much on speaking and writing Latin,
much more than is advisable in our days. But so did the Protestant
schools.[628] For this mastery of Latin was at that time of foremost
practical importance, as Latin was the universal language of Western
Christendom, the language of law and science, and the necessary organ
of international intercourse. As it was necessary, therefore, to
teach Latin in such a manner as to enable the pupils to write it,
the Jesuits endeavored to do this as well as possible; hence they
insisted much on a good Latin style, and imitated most of all that
of Cicero, a choice which only some radical critics of the school of
Mommsen can condemn. If even at present the writing and speaking of
Latin is one of the exercises in the Jesuit schools, it is not for the
same practical purpose as formerly, but these exercises are directed
towards the logical training of the mind. Besides, much less time is
devoted to these exercises now than heretofore.--That the writing and
speaking of Latin was never the only object of teaching this language,
is proved from the manner in which the authors were explained; it is
also sufficiently clear from the fact that Greek was always taught in
the Jesuit schools, certainly not for the practical purpose of speaking
it, but for purposes of general training. One of these purposes was to
acquaint the pupils with the classical writers, with their thoughts and
ideas.
But here M. Compayré has discovered another defect in the Jesuit
system. “It is to be noted, besides, that the Jesuits put scarcely
more into the hands of their pupils than select extracts, expurgated
editions. They wish in some sort to efface from the ancient books
whatever marks the epoch and characterizes the time. They detach fine
passages of eloquence and beautiful extracts of poetry, but they are
afraid, it seems, of the authors themselves; they fear lest the pupils
find in them the old human spirit--the spirit of nature.”[629] There
are several fallacies in this assertion. First of all the terms “select
extracts” and “expurgated editions” apparently are used by M. Compayré
as synonymous; but this is not correct. An expurgated edition, v.
g. of the Iliad, the Odyssey, the Aeneid, gives the whole work with
the omission of but a few objectionable passages. Such editions are
certainly not to be called select extracts from these authors. The
Jesuits used to read select extracts from some authors, whose works
are of such a character as to make it impossible to read them entire,
as Juvenal, Tibullus, Catullus, etc. But they read the great works,
the Odyssey, the Iliad, the Aeneid, some of Plato’s Dialogues, the
works of Cicero, etc., in expurgated editions in which only a few
indecent passages were left out. These editions did not efface what
characterized the time, or marked the spirit of the authors. On the
contrary, it would have been directly against the principles of the
Jesuits to suppress all this. For, whereas the Protestant Reformers
and the Jansenists taught that man, unaided by grace, was utterly
corrupt and unable to do anything good, that the seeming virtues of the
pagans, of a Socrates and others, were but gilded vices, the Jesuits
always maintained firmly that fallen man remained capable of performing
some good works. The Jesuits were more than once styled Pelagians
or Semipelagians, because, as their adversaries said, they extolled
human nature too much. The Jesuits could, consistently with their
philosophical and theological doctrine, propose to their pupils the
example of the natural virtues of the pagans.
On the other hand, they were most anxious to show the immense
superiority of the religion of Christ to the philosophical systems of
the ancients; they pointed out the helplessness of Greek philosophy to
raise man above the baser elements of nature, and they showed into what
an abyss of corruption the human race, left to itself, had fallen. All
this instruction they could impart only if they left in the authors
what was characteristic of their time and spirit, except such passages
as on account of their obscenity were not fit to be read by youths.
Here we have the meaning of the saying frequently used by Jesuit
educators: “So interpret pagan authors as to make of them heralds of
Christ.” The religious and moral principles of the ancients were to
be judged by the standard of Christian principles; what manifested
the human spirit in its divine likeness, the testimony of the _Anima
naturaliter Christiana_, as Tertullian says so beautifully, was
approved and recommended; what exhibited that spirit of nature which
is “the enemy of Christ,” was condemned. If M. Compayré reprehends the
Jesuits for doing this, they must be proud of such reproach; for it is
a contumely suffered for defending the teaching of Christ against the
doctrine of rank naturalism.
The Jesuits were never afraid of the ancient authors themselves.
History has proved this. If they had been afraid, they would have
introduced the Christian Latin and Greek authors instead of the pagan
classics. As they possessed almost an educational monopoly in Catholic
countries for about two centuries, it is certain that they would have
succeeded, had they attempted such a change. But they never attempted
this change; on the contrary, they strongly opposed such attempts. It
suffices to allude to the famous controversy carried on with so much
vigor by Abbé Gaume in France, about fifty years ago. This zealous
scholar maintained that the pagan classics infected the schools with
pagan ideas; indeed, he saw in their use in the schools the “fatal
cancer which preys upon the vitals of Christianity.”[630] Christian
Latin and Greek authors should, therefore, be substituted for the pagan
classics. Many distinguished Catholic scholars and writers, such as
Montalembert, Louis Veuillot, Donoso Cortes and others sided with Abbé
Gaume. Among those who most strenuously defended the classics were
the Jesuits, foremost among them Father Daniel. In a most elegant and
learned book[631] this Jesuit proved overwhelmingly that, from the
earliest centuries, the majority of the great Doctors of the Christian
Church were not opposed to the classics, on the contrary that most of
them favored their study, and that the severe language of a few Fathers
is directed not against the classics as such, but against the idolatry
and obscenity contained in many of them.[632]
There was, as far as I can ascertain, only one Jesuit writer
who ranged himself prominently on the side of Abbé Gaume in this
controversy.[633] The Jesuits, as a body, “the greatest of all
educational communities,” as a writer at the time called them,[634]
stood up for the defence of the classics. They did not deny that the
classics contained dangerous elements, which could work evil in men of
bad hearts, or weak heads. But they thought that it was the vicious
organization of the individual, or a pernicious system of teaching, as
that of many humanists, that extracted the poison from the classics
and rejected the sound aliment of intellectual food contained in the
ancient literature. This danger cannot exist for all, and it can be
effectively remedied by wise teaching. As the afore-mentioned writer
declared, “put education into proper hands, and the greatest step
[towards obviating possible evils] is achieved. The present position of
the Jesuits in France is for us a more hopeful sign than would be the
introduction of the very system called for by Abbé Gaume.”[635]
In 1894 M. Jules Lemaître renewed the attacks on the classics,
directing his accusations especially against the Jesuit schools. “I
find,” he writes, “in the pagan authors read in schools voluptuous
naturalism, Epicurean principles, or that Stoicism which is not virtue
but pride. The consequences of this anomalous state of affairs are
incalculable. We cannot wonder that the Jesuit colleges have produced
so many pagans and freethinkers, among them Voltaire.”[636] Now this is
very amusing. This writer accuses the Jesuits of fostering a heathen,
free-thinking spirit, by means of teaching the classics; and M.
Compayré charges them with suppressing the characteristic spirit of the
classical writers. This is one of the numberless contradictions into
which the opponents of the Society have been betrayed. If the classics
were taught in the spirit of M. Compayré, there is little doubt that,
as Abbé Gaume and M. Lemaître apprehended, freethinkers would be
produced. But the Jesuits teach them in quite a different spirit. Hence
the charges of these writers are wide of the mark. Nor did the Jesuits
give mere anonymous fragments, mere travesties of the classics, as M.
Compayré claims. They expunged obscene passages from their editions,
as conscientious non-Catholic editors have done, and that is all.[637]
The reasons for doing this are so obvious that there should be no need
of defending this practice. However, we shall say more on this subject
when speaking of the “Moral Scope of Education.” (Chapter XVII.)
One more word about selected extracts. One of the greatest Greek
scholars of our age, Professor von Wilamowitz-Moellendorf of the Berlin
University, has just published, at the recommendation of the Prussian
Ministry of Instruction, a Greek reader consisting of selected extracts
from different authors and different kinds of literature.[638] The
object of this book is to give the students of the higher classes of
the gymnasium, by means of characteristic selections from various kinds
of writings, a conspectus of the whole range of Greek literature. We do
not wish here to attempt a criticism of such a plan; what we want to
state is that, even at present, great scholars think selected extracts
of great value especially for acquainting the students with the spirit
of a great nation, as expressed in its literature. If, then, the
Jesuits had read chiefly selected extracts--which is not the case--M.
Compayré would not be justified in blaming the Jesuits in particular
for doing this, unless he could prove that their selections were
destitute of all educational value.
FOOTNOTES:
[578] There exists a vast literature on this subject. Of more recent
publications we mention only those of a man whose opinions must be of
special interest to American educators, viz. those of the United States
Commissioner of Education, W. T. Harris: _A Brief for Latin--On the
Function of the Study of Latin and Greek in Modern Education--Place
of the Study of Latin and Greek in Modern Education_, and _Herbert
Spencer and what to Study_ (_Educational Review_, September 1902).
In this last article Commissioner Harris very ably refutes Spencer’s
attacks on the study of the classics.--Of older works we wish to call
attention to one of an American ecclesiastic, which is almost unknown:
_Bishop England’s Address on Classical Education_ (_Bishop England’s
Works_, vol. V, pp. 13-31), in which the advantages of a classical
education are set forth with admirable force and lucidity.
[579] As early as 1843 in the College of Freiburg, Switzerland, besides
Latin and Greek, French, German, English, Italian, and Spanish were
taught, some as obligatory, others as optional branches. Pachtler, vol.
IV, pp. 546 ff.
[580] See _Report of Commissioner of Education_, 1889-90, vol. I, pp.
343-398; and especially Schmid, _Geschichte der Erziehung_, vol. V,
Abteilung I, pp. 357-422.
[581] Duhr, p. 89 foll.
[582] Schmid, _l. c._, p. 379. (_Rep. of C. of Ed._, _l. c._, p. 372.)
[583] Schmid, _l. c._, p. 443.
[584] _Verhandlungen über Fragen des höheren Unterrichts_, 1902, pp.
10, 18. Be it said, however, that Professor Slaby of Charlottenburg
maintained that the graduates of the Gymnasium in _his_ school were
not as successful in the sciences as those of the scientific schools.
_Ibid._, p. 378.
[585] _Die Mathematik im Reform-Gymnasium_. _Neue Jahrbücher_, 1901,
vol. VIII, pp. 190-218.
[586] The same idea is well expressed by Edw. Thring in his _Theory and
Practice of Teaching_: “The trained mind is like a skilled workman with
his tools, the mind merely stocked with knowledge is like a ready made
furniture shop. The one needs but a small outlay to equip, and when
equipped he can always produce the things he wants. The other is costly
to provide, and when provided is good only for the exact articles it
contains.” _The Month_, February 1886.
[587] _Contemporary Review_, August 1880.
[588] See _The Month_, Febr. 1886, pp. 170-176.
[589] _North American Review_, June 1899.
[590] _The Forum_, Jan. 1901, p. 584. However, in the Report delivered
at the Commencement of Yale 1902, President Hadley could quote the
following words of a leading employer of railroad labor: “When I want a
college man, I want a man who knows that it is hard work to use books
that are worth anything; and, as a preparation for railroad service, I
would rather have a man who has used one hard book without liking it--a
Greek dictionary if you please--than a man who thinks he knows all the
experimental science and all the shop work which any school can give
him, and has enjoyed it because it is easy.” The _Yale Alumni Weekly_,
July 31, 1902, p. 433.--And the _Electrical World_ said recently
(October 25) in the article “The College and Business”: “In our
profession such doubts are settled once for all by the great electrical
companies in demanding a college education in those who cast their lot
with them for technical training.”
[591] _The Works of Bishop England_, vol. V, p. 35.
[592] See _Buffalo Commercial_, June 29, 1901.
[593] Mommsen, _History of Rome_, vol. II, ch. 1.
[594] Newman, _Idea of a University_.
[595] See Professor Münsterberg’s article in the _Atlantic Monthly_,
May 1901.
[596] _Buffalo Courier_, Oct. 16, 1893.
[597] _Educational Review_, 1899, October.
[598] Hughes, _Loyola_, p. 251.
[599] See above, pp. 333-339.
[600] Virgil’s _Aeneid_, VI.
[601] Professor Bennett, in his _Teaching Latin in the Secondary
School_, pp. 12-22, points out the mental processes to be gone through
in translating from the Latin into English.
[602] _Euphyander_, p. 157; Chossat, _l. c._, 295.
[603] Willmann, _Didaktik_, vol. II, 115.
[604] _Verhandlungen._ (_Transactions of the Berlin Conference 1890._)
See Duhr, p. 91.
[605] _Verhandlungen_, 1900, p. 17.
[606] Fitch, _Thomas and Matthew Arnold_, p. 35.
[607] _Ratio Discendi_, ch. I, art. I.
[608] Quoted by Cardinal Newman in his _Idea of a University_, p. 271.
[609] _Practical Elements of Rhetoric_, p. 320.
[610] Matthew Arnold: _On Translating Homer_.
[611] Arnold, _l. c._
[612] Newman, _Development of Christian Doctrine_, ch. 1.
[613] _Transactions_; see Duhr, p. 117.
[614] Stanley, _Life of Arnold_, vol. II, p. 112; and Fitch, _Thomas
and Matthew Arnold_, p. 44.
[615] _Democracy and Other Addresses_, p. 126; quoted by Genung,
_Practical Elements of Rhetoric_, p. 320.
[616] Professor Mahaffy, _Irish Endowed School Commission Report_, p.
244.
[617] Cardinal Newman, _Idea of a University_, p. 263.
[618] _Sprüche in Prosa._
[619] See page 344.
[620] Letter of 1832. Hughes, _Loyola_, p. 290.
[621] _History of Pedagogy_, p. 144.
[622] _History of Education_, p. 169.
[623] I do not wish to imply that Mr. Painter has consciously committed
this blunder. I suspect it is based on an entirely false translation
of the first Rule for the Professor of Rhetoric, which says that Latin
style should be modeled chiefly after Cicero.
[624] See below chapter XVI, also Reg. _Prof. Rhet. I.--Reg. Hum. I._,
etc.
[625] _Ratio Docendi_, ch. II, art. 4. See below ch. XVI, § 1.
[626] This is the meaning of the term “formal” in many letters of the
Generals, as in that of Father Beckx quoted by M. Compayré, page 145,
where this author misinterprets the phrase “pure form”.
[627] Dr. Hirzel, in _Neue Jahrbücher_, 1902, vol. X, p. 53.
[628] See Paulsen, _Gesch. des gel. Unt._, vol. I, p. 352 and _passim_.
[629] _History of Pedagogy_, p. 144.
[630] Gaume, _Paganism in Education_, translated by Robert Hill,
London, Dolman, 1852.
[631] Charles Daniel, S. J., _Des études classiques dans la société
chrétienne_. Paris 1853.
[632] On this subject see two interesting articles in the _Dublin
Review_: “The French Controversy on the Use of Pagan Literature in
Education,” vol. XXXIII, Dec. 1852, pp. 321-336; and “The Gaume
Controversy on Classical Studies,” vol. VII (new series), 1866, pp.
200-228.
[633] _La Natura e la Grazia_, Rome 1865.--The fact that this Jesuit
publicly opposed the views held generally by his fellow-religious, may
furnish material for an important reflection. It is so often asserted
that the Jesuits have to follow, like humble sheep, a certain system
or set of opinions prescribed for them, and that any utterance of
individual views is practically excluded. The whole history of the
Order proves the contrary. Even in theological opinions, as Cardinal
Newman said, the Order is not over-zealous about its traditions,
or it would not suffer its great writers to be engaged in animated
controversies with one another. (_Historical Sketches_, vol. II, p.
369.) We shall have more to say on this subject in chapter XV, when we
treat of the training of the Jesuit teacher. Whenever the Jesuits as a
body defend certain opinions, they do so on the _intrinsic_ strength of
the arguments for these opinions, not for the _extrinsic_ reason of a
tradition of their Order.
[634] _Dublin Review_, December 1852, p. 322.
[635] _Ibid._, p. 335.
[636] _Revue bleue_, Jan. 1894. Chossat, _l. c._, p. 330.
[637] We do not intend by any means to say that all Jesuit editors of
such texts have kept to the golden mean. On the contrary, we admit that
some have gone to extremes. But we do not deal here with individual
cases, but with the general principle.
[638] _Griechisches Lesebuch_. Berlin, Weidmann, 1902. Two volumes
text, two volumes commentary. See on this reader, _Transactions of the
Berlin Conference_, 1900, pp. 205-215.--_Neue Jahrbücher_, 1902, vol.
X, pp. 270-284.--_Monatschrift für höhere Schulen_, Berlin, March 1902,
pp. 158-160, and October. In the April number of this new educational
review, p. 301, it is stated that an English edition of this work is in
preparation.