some of the most important have been transferred with lasting success
to the modern regulations of public schools: the most important of
all, however, did not succeed--the one demanding that the teacher,
also, should be consecrated to the new spirit, so that the aim of the
public school has meanwhile considerably departed from the original
plan laid down by Wolf, which was the cultivation of the pupil. The
old estimate of scholarship and scholarly culture, as an absolute,
which Wolf overcame, seems after a slow and spiritless struggle rather
to have taken the place of the culture-principle of more recent
introduction, and now claims its former exclusive rights, though not
with the same frankness, but disguised and with features veiled. And
the reason why it was impossible to make public schools fall in with
the magnificent plan of classical culture lay in the un-German, almost
foreign or cosmopolitan nature of these efforts in the cause of
education: in the belief that it was possible to remove the native
soil from under a man's feet and that he should still remain standing;
in the illusion that people can spring direct, without bridges, into
the strange Hellenic world, by abjuring German and the German mind in
general.
"Of course one must know how to trace this Germanic spirit to its lair
beneath its many modern dressings, or even beneath heaps of ruins; one
must love it so that one is not ashamed of it in its stunted form, and
one must above all be on one's guard against confounding it with what
now disports itself proudly as 'Up-to-date German culture.' The German
spirit is very far from being on friendly times with this up-to-date
culture: and precisely in those spheres where the latter complains of
a lack of culture the real German spirit has survived, though perhaps
not always with a graceful, but more often an ungraceful, exterior. On
the other hand, that which now grandiloquently assumes the title of
'German culture' is a sort of cosmopolitan aggregate, which bears the
same relation to the German spirit as Journalism does to Schiller or
Meyerbeer to Beethoven: here the strongest influence at work is the
fundamentally and thoroughly un-German civilisation of France, which
is aped neither with talent nor with taste, and the imitation of which
gives the society, the press, the art, and the literary style of
Germany their pharisaical character. Naturally the copy nowhere
produces the really artistic effect which the original, grown out of
the heart of Roman civilisation, is able to produce almost to this day
in France. Let any one who wishes to see the full force of this
contrast compare our most noted novelists with the less noted ones of
France or Italy: he will recognise in both the same doubtful
tendencies and aims, as also the same still more doubtful means, but
in France he will find them coupled with artistic earnestness, at
least with grammatical purity, and often with beauty, while in their
every feature he will recognise the echo of a corresponding social
culture. In Germany, on the other hand, they will strike him as
unoriginal, flabby, filled with dressing-gown thoughts and
expressions, unpleasantly spread out, and therewithal possessing no
background of social form. At the most, owing to their scholarly
mannerisms and display of knowledge, he will be reminded of the fact
that in Latin countries it is the artistically-trained man, and that
in Germany it is the abortive scholar, who becomes a journalist. With
this would-be German and thoroughly unoriginal culture, the German can
nowhere reckon upon victory: the Frenchman and the Italian will always
get the better of him in this respect, while, in regard to the clever
imitation of a foreign culture, the Russian, above all, will always be
his superior.
"We are therefore all the more anxious to hold fast to that German
spirit which revealed itself in the German Reformation, and in German
music, and which has shown its enduring and genuine strength in the
enormous courage and severity of German philosophy and in the loyalty
of the German soldier, which has been tested quite recently. From it
we expect a victory over that 'up-to-date' pseudo-culture which is now
the fashion. What we should hope for the future is that schools may
draw the real school of culture into this struggle, and kindle the
flame of enthusiasm in the younger generation, more particularly in
public schools, for that which is truly German; and in this way
so-called classical education will resume its natural place and
recover its one possible starting-point.
"A thorough reformation and purification of the public school can only
be the outcome of a profound and powerful reformation and purification
of the German spirit. It is a very complex and difficult task to find
the border-line which joins the heart of the Germanic spirit with the
genius of Greece. Not, however, before the noblest needs of genuine
German genius snatch at the hand of this genius of Greece as at a firm
post in the torrent of barbarity, not before a devouring yearning for
this genius of Greece takes possession of German genius, and not
before that view of the Greek home, on which Schiller and Goethe,
after enormous exertions, were able to feast their eyes, has become
the Mecca of the best and most gifted men, will the aim of classical
education in public schools acquire any definition; and they at least
will not be to blame who teach ever so little science and learning in
public schools, in order to keep a definite and at the same time ideal
aim in their eyes, and to rescue their pupils from that glistening
phantom which now allows itself to be called 'culture' and
'education.' This is the sad plight of the public school of to-day:
the narrowest views remain in a certain measure right, because no one
seems able to reach or, at least, to indicate the spot where all these
views culminate in error."
"No one?" the philosopher's pupil inquired with a slight quaver in his
voice; and both men were silent.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] It is not practicable to translate these German solecisms by
similar instances of English solecisms. The reader who is interested
in the subject will find plenty of material in a book like the Oxford
_King's English_.
[4] German: _Formelle Bildung._
[5] German: _Materielle Bildung._
THIRD LECTURE.
(_Delivered on the 27th of February 1872._)
Ladies and Gentlemen,--At the close of my last lecture, the
conversation to which I was a listener, and the outlines of which, as
I clearly recollect them, I am now trying to lay before you, was
interrupted by a long and solemn pause. Both the philosopher and his
companion sat silent, sunk in deep dejection: the peculiarly critical
state of that important educational institution, the German public
school, lay upon their souls like a heavy burden, which one single,
well-meaning individual is not strong enough to remove, and the
multitude, though strong, not well meaning enough.
Our solitary thinkers were perturbed by two facts: by clearly
perceiving on the one hand that what might rightly be called
"classical education" was now only a far-off ideal, a castle in the
air, which could not possibly be built as a reality on the foundations
of our present educational system, and that, on the other hand, what
was now, with customary and unopposed euphemism, pointed to as
"classical education" could only claim the value of a pretentious
illusion, the best effect of which was that the expression "classical
education" still lived on and had not yet lost its pathetic sound.
These two worthy men saw clearly, by the system of instruction in
vogue, that the time was not yet ripe for a higher culture, a culture
founded upon that of the ancients: the neglected state of linguistic
instruction; the forcing of students into learned historical paths,
instead of giving them a practical training; the connection of certain
practices, encouraged in the public schools, with the objectionable
spirit of our journalistic publicity--all these easily perceptible
phenomena of the teaching of German led to the painful certainty that
the most beneficial of those forces which have come down to us from
classical antiquity are not yet known in our public schools: forces
which would train students for the struggle against the barbarism of
the present age, and which will perhaps once more transform the public
schools into the arsenals and workshops of this struggle.
On the other hand, it would seem in the meantime as if the spirit of
antiquity, in its fundamental principles, had already been driven away
from the portals of the public schools, and as if here also the gates
were thrown open as widely as possible to the be-flattered and
pampered type of our present self-styled "German culture." And if the
solitary talkers caught a glimpse of a single ray of hope, it was that
things would have to become still worse, that what was as yet divined
only by the few would soon be clearly perceived by the many, and that
then the time for honest and resolute men for the earnest
consideration of the scope of the education of the masses would not be
far distant.
After a few minutes' silent reflection, the philosopher's companion
turned to him and said: "You used to hold out hopes to me, but now you
have done more: you have widened my intelligence, and with it my
strength and courage: now indeed can I look on the field of battle
with more hardihood, now indeed do I repent of my too hasty flight. We
want nothing for ourselves, and it should be nothing to us how many
individuals may fall in this battle, or whether we ourselves may be
among the first. Just because we take this matter so seriously, we
should not take our own poor selves so seriously: at the very moment
we are falling some one else will grasp the banner of our faith. I
will not even consider whether I am strong enough for such a fight,
whether I can offer sufficient resistance; it may even be an
honourable death to fall to the accompaniment of the mocking laughter
of such enemies, whose seriousness has frequently seemed to us to be
something ridiculous. When I think how my contemporaries prepared
themselves for the highest posts in the scholastic profession, as I
myself have done, then I know how we often laughed at the exact
contrary, and grew serious over something quite different----"
"Now, my friend," interrupted the philosopher, laughingly, "you speak
as one who would fain dive into the water without being able to swim,
and who fears something even more than the mere drowning; _not_ being
drowned, but laughed at. But being laughed at should be the very last
thing for us to dread; for we are in a sphere where there are too many
truths to tell, too many formidable, painful, unpardonable truths, for
us to escape hatred, and only fury here and there will give rise to
some sort of embarrassed laughter. Just think of the innumerable crowd
of teachers, who, in all good faith, have assimilated the system of
education which has prevailed up to the present, that they may
cheerfully and without over-much deliberation carry it further on.
What do you think it will seem like to these men when they hear of
projects from which they are excluded _beneficio naturæ_; of commands
which their mediocre abilities are totally unable to carry out; of
hopes which find no echo in them; of battles the war-cries of which
they do not understand, and in the fighting of which they can take
part only as dull and obtuse rank and file? But, without exaggeration,
that must necessarily be the position of practically all the teachers
in our higher educational establishments: and indeed we cannot wonder
at this when we consider how such a teacher originates, how he
_becomes_ a teacher of such high status. Such a large number of higher
educational establishments are now to be found everywhere that far
more teachers will continue to be required for them than the nature of
even a highly-gifted people can produce; and thus an inordinate stream
of undesirables flows into these institutions, who, however, by their
preponderating numbers and their instinct of 'similis simile gaudet'
gradually come to determine the nature of these institutions. There
may be a few people, hopelessly unfamiliar with pedagogical matters,
who believe that our present profusion of public schools and teachers,
which is manifestly out of all proportion, can be changed into a real
profusion, an _ubertas ingenii_, merely by a few rules and
regulations, and without any reduction in the number of these
institutions. But we may surely be unanimous in recognising that by
the very nature of things only an exceedingly small number of people
are destined for a true course of education, and that a much smaller
number of higher educational establishments would suffice for their
further development, but that, in view of the present large numbers of
educational institutions, those for whom in general such institutions
ought only to be established must feel themselves to be the least
facilitated in their progress.
"The same holds good in regard to teachers. It is precisely the best
teachers--those who, generally speaking, judged by a high standard,
are worthy of this honourable name--who are now perhaps the least
fitted, in view of the present standing of our public schools, for the
education of these unselected youths, huddled together in a confused
heap; but who must rather, to a certain extent, keep hidden from them
the best they could give: and, on the other hand, by far the larger
number of these teachers feel themselves quite at home in these
institutions, as their moderate abilities stand in a kind of
harmonious relationship to the dullness of their pupils. It is from
this majority that we hear the ever-resounding call for the
establishment of new public schools and higher educational
institutions: we are living in an age which, by ringing the changes on
its deafening and continual cry, would certainly give one the
impression that there was an unprecedented thirst for culture which
eagerly sought to be quenched. But it is just at this point that one
should learn to hear aright: it is here, without being disconcerted by
the thundering noise of the education-mongers, that we must confront
those who talk so tirelessly about the educational necessities of
their time. Then we should meet with a strange disillusionment, one
which we, my good friend, have often met with: those blatant heralds
of educational needs, when examined at close quarters, are suddenly
seen to be transformed into zealous, yea, fanatical opponents of true
culture, _i.e._ all those who hold fast to the aristocratic nature of
the mind; for, at bottom, they regard as their goal the emancipation
of the masses from the mastery of the great few; they seek to
overthrow the most sacred hierarchy in the kingdom of the
intellect--the servitude of the masses, their submissive obedience,
their instinct of loyalty to the rule of genius.
"I have long accustomed myself to look with caution upon those who are
ardent in the cause of the so-called 'education of the people' in the
common meaning of the phrase; since for the most part they desire for
themselves, consciously or unconsciously, absolutely unlimited
freedom, which must inevitably degenerate into something resembling
the saturnalia of barbaric times, and which the sacred hierarchy of
nature will never grant them. They were born to serve and to obey; and
every moment in which their limping or crawling or broken-winded
thoughts are at work shows us clearly out of which clay nature moulded
them, and what trade mark she branded thereon. The education of the
masses cannot, therefore, be our aim; but rather the education of a
few picked men for great and lasting works. We well know that a just
posterity judges the collective intellectual state of a time only by
those few great and lonely figures of the period, and gives its
decision in accordance with the manner in which they are recognised,
encouraged, and honoured, or, on the other hand, in which they are
snubbed, elbowed aside, and kept down. What is called the 'education
of the masses' cannot be accomplished except with difficulty; and even
if a system of universal compulsory education be applied, they can
only be reached outwardly: those individual lower levels where,
generally speaking, the masses come into contact with culture, where
the people nourishes its religious instinct, where it poetises its
mythological images, where it keeps up its faith in its customs,
privileges, native soil, and language--all these levels can scarcely
be reached by direct means, and in any case only by violent
demolition. And, in serious matters of this kind, to hasten forward
the progress of the education of the people means simply the
postponement of this violent demolition, and the maintenance of that
wholesome unconsciousness, that sound sleep, of the people, without
which counter-action and remedy no culture, with the exhausting strain
and excitement of its own actions, can make any headway.
"We know, however, what the aspiration is of those who would disturb
the healthy slumber of the people, and continually call out to them:
'Keep your eyes open! Be sensible! Be wise!' we know the aim of those
who profess to satisfy excessive educational requirements by means of
an extraordinary increase in the number of educational institutions
and the conceited tribe of teachers originated thereby. These very
people, using these very means, are fighting against the natural
hierarchy in the realm of the intellect, and destroying the roots of
all those noble and sublime plastic forces which have their material
origin in the unconsciousness of the people, and which fittingly
terminate in the procreation of genius and its due guidance and proper
training. It is only in the simile of the mother that we can grasp the
meaning and the responsibility of the true education of the people in
respect to genius: its real origin is not to be found in such
education; it has, so to speak, only a metaphysical source, a
metaphysical home. But for the genius to make his appearance; for him
to emerge from among the people; to portray the reflected picture, as
it were, the dazzling brilliancy of the peculiar colours of this
people; to depict the noble destiny of a people in the similitude of
an individual in a work which will last for all time, thereby making
his nation itself eternal, and redeeming it from the ever-shifting
element of transient things: all this is possible for the genius only
when he has been brought up and come to maturity in the tender care of
the culture of a people; whilst, on the other hand, without this
sheltering home, the genius will not, generally speaking, be able to
rise to the height of his eternal flight, but will at an early moment,
like a stranger weather-driven upon a bleak, snow-covered desert,
slink away from the inhospitable land."
"You astonish me with such a metaphysics of genius," said the
teacher's companion, "and I have only a hazy conception of the
accuracy of your similitude. On the other hand, I fully understand
what you have said about the surplus of public schools and the
corresponding surplus of higher grade teachers; and in this regard I
myself have collected some information which assures me that the
educational tendency of the public school _must_ right itself by this
very surplus of teachers who have really nothing at all to do with
education, and who are called into existence and pursue this path
solely because there is a demand for them. Every man who, in an
unexpected moment of enlightenment, has convinced himself of the
singularity and inaccessibility of Hellenic antiquity, and has warded
off this conviction after an exhausting struggle--every such man knows
that the door leading to this enlightenment will never remain open to
all comers; and he deems it absurd, yea disgraceful, to use the Greeks
as he would any other tool he employs when following his profession or
earning his living, shamelessly fumbling with coarse hands amidst the
relics of these holy men. This brazen and vulgar feeling is, however,
most common in the profession from which the largest numbers of
teachers for the public schools are drawn, the philological
profession, wherefore the reproduction and continuation of such a
feeling in the public school will not surprise us.