division of the Saxon-Norman race. Speaking of an American's first impressions on returning home from Germany, he says:

"We breathe a trifle faster [than the German], the heart beats somewhat quicker, and all vital processes are accelerated. We consume our reserve physical forces, and overdo more frequently, easily, and unconsciously. The nervous system begins to grow more active, and perhaps we feel less poise; a slight sense of restlessness and haste grows not infrequently on a nervous person. In some cases beer and wine, which may have been used constantly with impunity abroad, must be given up on returning. If we rest, we find ourselves beating time with hands, feet or head; or, instead of storing it up, love to let our surplus energy trickle off by the intermittent propulsion of a rocking-chair—an abomination almost unknown on the Continent. Our very speech often seems a trifle more rapid and emphatic; and our gestures, if we are in the habit of gesticulating, are a little more florid and demonstrative. The appetite improves, digestion is quite commonly better, and ladies have assured me that their complexions were benefited on returning. I have seen a file of one hundred and fifty small German boys just as they marched out of the school-house at noon, almost unbroken a quarter of a mile away; and I observed several hundred little girls at the Victoria School in Berlin, during an out-door recess, and did not see one run, or skip, or do anything a lady might not have done, although they were allowed perfect freedom. Here, even older school girls play very active and often exciting games, or, what is worse, get together and giggle uncontrollably; this, for a type of constitution quite common here, is nothing less than a mild form of debauch. Pedestrians, cars, and even horses, go faster. Feelings, passions, desires and ambitions are more intense, and expressed with less restraint, and most of them gratified more freely. For any other temperament the alternative of teetotalism or inebriation would be absurd; here it is often real and pressing. Finally, every young man feels that if he do not become President, it will be because he did not try to be, or else because his own abilities are at fault. These are some of the causes why we are the most sanguine, the brightest, most plucky, and perhaps most cheerful, people in the world."

Our inherited Saxon push, our physical environment, our boundless opportunities, and the character of our institutions, in respect to courage, audacity, enterprise, and many forms of achievement, make us a people by ourselves. It would be hard to name a field of life in which our characteristic energy, impatience and nervousness do not show themselves. It is notorious that the average American attempts more work, and does more work, than any other average man in the world. To quote Dr. Hall

once more:

'Again, we are perhaps the hardest workers in the world. Whatever he may say of its quality, the German official or man of business is always appalled at the quantity of work his compeer here can turn off in a given time. We may be born larger, carry less flesh, mature earlier, dry up and decay younger, than the Germans; but in despatch, executive ability, impromptu practical judgment, we as far excel them as they excel us in science and philosophy. Business here seems to not a few Germans of average intelligence with whom I have conversed, only as a grand money hunt, which is so absorbing that it leaves men no leisure for culture, domestic enjoyment, or even for needed rest, eating, etc. The most popular of even our festivals, it is said, is an industrial exposition, No nation so young was ever so rich, although less wealth has ruined maturer ones."

These things are perfectly well understood abroad. America is a gauge for measuring the most energetic communities of the Old World. Lancashire, Eng., is sometimes called "America and water." We suspect it is "America and very little water," says Mr. Walter Bagehot. "In its own pursuits, in commerce, we question whether New York itself is more intensely eager than Liverpool; at any rate, it is difficult to conceive how it can be." Mr. Herbert Spencer's remarks at the dinner given him in New York, in December, 1882, have not yet been forgotten, and I need not quote them.

Now, history has charged a good deal to the American spirit; but, fortunately, has credited that spirit with more. It has wrought some harm, but more good. Unfortunately, its worst effects appear in the highest fields of effort, where time and labor are so indispensable-in science, literature, philosophy, art and education. Powers, the sculptor, in answering why he worked in Rome and not in the United States, said the American genius is too ardent and impatient for high art; that in America one always hears the "crack of the whip behind him;" that an artist cannot live in such a country without sharing its spirit; and that in consequence he sought the repose of Italy and of Rome. The tension in our schools is too high, to the extent that the tension of our business and of our social life is too high. I mean relatively, of course. That the popular school should partake of the popular genius is perfectly natural, and I believe perfectly true; but the proposition that public school teachers have set off a preserve of their own, which they have filled with new methods and a strange spirit-when we come to look at it will not bear examination.

Here it will be interesting to raise the question: How do our public schools compare, as respects their genius, with our other schools? I answer, the prevalent spirit is felt and seen in our education as a whole. Among its signs are meagre preparation for college, short courses of study, superficial teaching, the disposition to equalize schools that hold "commencements,” to hold that a degree is a degree, and a diploma a diploma, and the large patronage of the poorest of the colleges. Other signs are the origin and growth of schools of high-sounding names and of lofty pretensions that supply the demand for poor education, thereby increasing the demand. No one knows how many "normal schools" and "institutes " there are in the country that claim to do the work of a college in a better way in one-half or onethird of the time. Still other signs of the same spirit are our schools of law and of medicine, which, as classes, are below our colleges. The theological schools are on a better footing as respects the preparation that they require and the training that they give, perhaps because they are more widely separated from affairs.

How did the characteristic American spirit get into the American school? Mainly in two ways. First, much of it flowed in unconsciously to all parties. The teachers and the pupils share this spirit; they have the greater activity and less poise, the quicker heart-beat and the accelerated vital processes that belong to the vast society from which they come. Secondly, the prevalent spirit has been poured into the schools intentionally and consciously by the public; the expanded courses of study in the schools, the attenuated teaching, the anxiety to promote pupils from grade to grade, so far as it comes from conscious effort, is more the work of the public than of teachers. In a less direct sense the same is true of the frequent examinations and other excessive stimulants to study that are sometimes employed. Teachers as a class are open to criticism in two particulars. They are the professional popular educators

of the country; they are supposed to have expert knowledge of their work; and it may be said they should have offered a firmer resistance to outside pressure. Further, it must be said that teachers have sometimes led the movement for wider expansion and stronger stimulation. Naturally, teachers magnify their work, like other people; they like to succeed, and do not like to fail; and they have sometimes fallen into the mistake of measuring success and failure by wrong standards—confounding ends and means.

It is not sufficiently considered that the school is a much more prominent factor in society than it was a generation or two ago. It occupies more of the child's time, absorbs more of his energy, and fills an altogether larger place in his life. Then the graded system has some evil to answer for, as well as much good. It makes the sense of disappointment arising from failure to secure promotions especially keen and bitter. In the old-fashioned school the steps of the child's progress were not very plainly marked. Now, however, they are clearly disclosed to everybody who cares to see them; and the fear of failure "to pass" sometimes becomes a demon disturbing the peace of households. Demands that children who have failed shall "be passed," are frequently and persistently made at the Superintendent's office. Some parents seem to think that position or grade, and not preparation and fitness, is the great matter, and they regard the superintendent or teacher who refuses promotion as a selfish and cruel gatekeeper, who denies the child entrance to green fields filled with golden fruits. There is, indeed, nothing blameworthy in the ambition of pupils and parents; kept within bounds it is worthy of all praise; lack of ambition means lack of effort and progress, and is essentially un-American; but whereas some parents would render good service to their children by more stimulation, others would render good service by repressing energies that are now over excited.

I shall cherish the hope, Mr. President, that these remarks may lead to thought on these important subjects-especially the need of fuller co-operation between citizens, school boards and teachers, in the grand work. On a former occasion I ventured to call the public, the board, and the teacher the "three estates of the public school realm," and asserted that the health and happiness and progress of the realm can be promoted only by the joint and combined efforts of all the estates.

What is a Liberal Education? *

The general growth of knowledge and the rise of new literature, arts and sciences during the past two hundred and fifty years have made it necessary to define anew liberal education, and hence to enlarge the signification of the degree of bachelor of arts, which is the customary evidence of a liberal education. Already the meaning of this ancient degree has quietly undergone many serious modifications; it ought now to be fundamentally and openly changed.

The course of study which terminates in the degree of bachelor of arts ordinarily covers from seven to ten years, of which four are spent in college and three to six at

* This paper was read on the 22d of February last before the members of the Johns Hopkins University, an institution which from the start has effectually promoted many of the reforms herein advocated.

school; and this long course is, for my present purpose, to be considered as a whole. I wish to demonstrate, first, that the number of school and college studies admissible with equal weight or rank for this highly valued degree needs to be much enlarged; secondly, that among admissible subjects a considerable range of choice should be allowed from an earlier age than that at which choice is now generally permitted; and, thirdly, that the existing order of studies should be changed in important respects.

*

The first subject which, as I conceive, is entitled to recognition as of equal academic value or rank with any subject now most honored, is the English language and literature. When Greek began to revive in Europe, English was just acquiring a literary form; but when Greek had won its present rank among the liberal arts, Shakspere had risen, the English language was formed, and English literature was soon to become the greatest of modern literatures. How does it stand now, with its immense array of poets, philosophers, historians, commentators, critics, satirists, dramatists, novelists, and orators? It cannot be doubted that English literature is beyond all comparison the amplest, most various, and most splendid literature which the world has ever seen; and it is enough to say of the English language that it is the language of that literature. Greek literature compares with English as Homer compares with Shakspere—that is, as infantile with adult civilization. It may further be said of the English language that it is the native tongue of nations which are preeminent in the world by force of character, enterprise, and wealth, and whose political and social institutions have a higher moral interest and greater promise than any which mankind has hitherto invented. To the original creations of English genius are to be added translations into English of all the masterpieces of other literatures, sacred and profane. It is a very rare scholar who has not learned much more about the Jews, the Greeks or the Romans through English than through Hebrew, Greek or Latin.

And now, with all this wonderful treasure within reach of our youth, what is the position of American schools and colleges in regard to teaching English? Has English literature the foremost place in the programmes of schools? By no means. At best only a subordinate place, and in many schools no place at all. Does English take equal rank with Greek or Latin in our colleges? By no means; not in the number and rank of the teachers, nor in the consideration in which the subject is held by faculty and students, nor in the time which may be devoted to it by a candidate for a degree. Until within a few years the American colleges made no demand upon candidates for admission in regard to knowledge of English; and now that some colleges make a small requirement in English, the chief result of the examinations is to demonstrate the woful ignorance of their own language and literature which prevails among the picked youth of the country. Shall we be told, as usual, that the best way to learn English is to study Latin and Greek? The answer is, that the facts do not corroborate this improbable hypothesis. American youth in large numbers study Latin and Greek, but do not thereby learn English. Moreover, this hypothesis is obviously inapplicable to the literatures. Shall we also be told, as usual, that no linguistic discipline can be got out of the study of the native language? How, then, was the Greek mind trained in language? Shall we be told that knowledge of English literature should be picked up without systematic effort? The an

swer is first, that as a matter of fact this knowledge is not picked up by American youth; and, secondly, that there never was any good reason to suppose that it would be, the acquisition of a competent knowledge of English literature being not an easy but a laborious undertaking for an average youth—not a matter of entertaining reading, but of serious study. Indeed, there is no subject in which competent guidance and systematic instruction are of greater value. For ten years past Harvard University has been trying, first, to stimulate the preparatory schools to give attention to English, and secondly, to develop and improve its own instruction in that depart. ment; but its success has thus far been very moderate. So little attention is paid to English at the preparatory schools that half of the time, labor and money which the University spends upon English must be devoted to the mere elements of the subject. Moreover, this very year at Harvard less than half as much instruction, of proper university grade, is offered in English as in Greek or in Latin. The experience of all other colleges and universities resembles in this respect that of Harvard.

The next subjects for which I claim a position of academic equality with Greek and Latin and Mathematics are French and German. This claim rests not on the usefulness of these languages to couriers, tourists, or commercial travelers, and not on their merit as languages, but on the magnitude and worth of the literatures, and on the unquestionable fact that facility in reading these languages is absolutely indispensable to a scholar, whatever may be his department of study. Until within one hundred or one hundred and fifty years, scholarship had a common language, the Latin ; so that scholars of all the European nationalities had a perfect means of communication, whether in speaking, writing, or printing. But the cultivation of the spirit of nationality, and the development of national literatures, have brought about the abandonment of Latin as the common language of learning, and imposed on every student who would go beyond the elements of his subject the necessity of acquiring at least a reading knowledge of French and German, besides Latin. Indeed, the advanced student of our day can dispense with Latin better than with French, German, or English; for, although the antiquated publications in any science may be printed in Latin, the recent (which will probably contain all that is best in the old) will be found printed in one of these modern languages. I cannot state too strongly the indispensableness of both French and German to the American or English student. Without these languages he will be much worse off in respect to communicating with his contemporaries than was the student of the seventeenth century who could read and speak Latin; for through Latin the student of the year 1684 could put himself into direct communication with all contemporary learning. So far as I know, there is no difference of opinion among American scholars as to the need of mastering these two languages in youth. The philologists, archeologists, metaphysicians, physicians, physicists, naturalists, chemists, economists, engineers, architects, artists, and musicians, all agree that a knowledge of these languages is indispensable, to the intelligent pursuit of any one of their respective subjects beyond its elements. Every college professor who gives a thorough course of instruction-no matter in what department-finds himself obliged to refer his pupils to French and German authorities. In the reference library of any modern laboratory, whether of chemistry, physics, physiology, pathology, botany or zoology, a large proportion of the books will be found to be in French or German. The working library of the philologist, archæol