Chapter XXVI: Part IX: , p. 475, 1890), Dr. Johnstone Stoney, F. R. S., published an (16)
“When a man admits that an act is ‘theoretically just,’ he admits it to be that which, in strict duty, should be done. By ‘true to principle’ he means in harmony with the conduct decreed for us. The course which he calls ‘abstractedly right,’ he believes to be the appointed way to human happiness. There is no escape. The expressions mean this or they mean nothing.”
The book is written in an angry vein, and the nicknames “traitor,” “juggler,” “apostate,” and the like, add nothing to the value of its argument; they only give bitterness to the censure. They are not to be commended, although they ought to be excused, for they sprang out of “a tempest of provocation.” Mr. George has been fighting under the banner of Herbert Spencer, and he feels like a soldier whose general deserts him in the battle and then disowns him altogether.
The only rational explanation of Mr. Spencer’s letters to the _Times_ and the _St. James’s Gazette_ is that he has radically changed his opinions about the private ownership of land: and his timid, uncertain, and equivocal way of saying so makes him look very much like the “perplexed philosopher” that Mr. George describes. At the same time it must be noticed that Mr. George himself is not so radical in this last book as he was in “Progress and Poverty.” His principles appear to be the same, but in the application of remedies he is milder than he was about fourteen years ago. When he reaches Mr. Spencer’s age he may be just as conservative and “perplexed” as that philosopher is now.
M. M. TRUMBULL.
FOOTNOTES:
[85] Mr. Salter’s name for his theory.
[86] Says Mr. Salter: “Idealism (as here stated) is not, however, itself a solution, being only a clear statement of what the problem is; and for all that such idealism can say, the problem may be insoluble.”
PERIODICALS.
ZEITSCHRIFT FÜR PSYCHOLOGIE UND PHYSIOLOGIE DER SINNESORGANE.
CONTENTS: Vol. IV. Nos. 4 and 5.
DIE GRUNDEMPFINDUNGEN IN NORMALEN UND ANOMALEN FARBENSYSTEMEN
UND IHRE ITENSITÄTSVERTEILUNG IM SPEKTRUM. By _Arthur König and
Conrad Dieterici_.
IST EINE CEREBRALE ENTSTEHUNG VON SCHWEBUNGEN MÖGLICH? By _Karl
L. Schaefer_.
UEBER EINIGE NEUERE FORTSCHRITTE IN DER ANATOMIE UND
PHYSIOLOGIE DER ARTHROPODENAUGEN. By _Sigmund Fuchs_.
LITTERATURBERICHT.
CONTENTS: Vol. IV. No. 6.
DAS TAPETUM LUCIDUM BEI DURCHLEUCHTUNG DES AUGES. By _Ziem_.
BERICHTIGUNG ZU PROFESSOR MÜNSTERBERGS BEITRÄGEN ZUR
EXPERIMENTELLEN PSYCHOLOGIE, HEFT 4. By _G. E. Müller_.
LITTERATURBERICHT. (Hamburg and Leipsic: Leopold Voss.)
PHILOSOPHISCHE MONATSHEFTE.
CONTENTS: Vol. XXIX. No. 3 and 4.
DIE ÄLTESTE FASSUNG VON MELANCHTHONS ETHIK. By _H. Heineck_.
DIE MODERNE ENERGETIK IN IHRER BEDEUTUNG FÜR DIE
ERKENNTNISSKRITIK, II. By _K. Lasswitz_.
DIE SITTLICHE FRAGE EINE SOCIALE FRAGE, II. By _F. Staudinger_.
JOHANN EDUARD ERDMANN. By _B. Erdmann_.
LITTERATURBERICHT. (Berlin: Dr. R. Salinger.)
VIERTELJAHRSSCHRIFT FÜR WISSENSCHAFTLICHE PHILOSOPHIE.
CONTENTS: Vol. XVI. No. 4.
DIE STATISCHEN FUNCTIONEN DES OHRLABYRINTHES UND IHRE
BEZIEHUNGEN ZU DEN RAUMEMPFINDUNGEN. (Part I.) By _R. Wlassak_.
UEBER VERSCHMELZUNG UND ANALYSE. Eine psychologische Studie.
(Part I.) By _H. Cornelius_.
DIE WICHTIGKEIT DER REPRODUCTIONSGEFÜHLE FÜR DIE ENTWICKLUNG
UND BILDUNG DES MENSCHEN. By _J. Zahlfleisch_.
CONTENTS: Vol. XVII. No. 1.
UEBER DEN BEGRIFF DER WISSENSCHAFT BEI GALILEI. By _A. Riehl_.
DIE STATISCHEN FUNCTIONEN DES OHRLABYRINTHES UND IHRE
BEZIEHUNGEN ZU DEN RAUMEMPFINDUNGEN. (Concluded.) By _R.
Wlassak_.
UEBER VERSCHMELZUNG UND ANALYSE. Eine psychologische Studie.
(Concluded.) By _H. Cornelius_.
WERTHTHEORIE UND ETHIK. (Part I.) By _Chr. Ehrenfels_.
A. VOIGT’S “ELEMENTARE LOGIK” UND MEINE DARLEGUNGEN ZUR LOGIK
DES LOGISCHEN CALCULS. By _E. G. Husserl_. (Leipsic: O. R.
Reisland.)
ZEITSCHRIFT FÜR PHILOSOPHIE UND PHILOSOPHISCHE KRITIK.
CONTENTS: Vol. CI. No. 2.
DOXOGRAPHISCHES ZUR LEHRE VOM ΤΈΛΟΣ. By _A. Döring_.
ERNST PLATNER’S UND KANT’S ERKENNTNISSTHEORIE MIT BESONDERER
BERÜCKSICHTIGUNG VON TETENS UND AENESIDEMUS. By _Dr. Arthur
Wreschner_.
JAHRESBERICHT ÜBER ERSCHEINUNGEN DER PHILOSOPHISCHEN LITTERATUR
IN FRANZÖSISCHER SPRACHE AUS DEN JAHREN 1889 UND 1890. By
_Adolph Lasson_.
RECENSIONEN. (Leipsic: C. E. M. Pfeffer.)
THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY.
CONTENTS: Vol. V. No. 2.
ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF VOLUNTARY MOTOR ABILITY. By _Wm. L.
Bryan_.
THE TRAINING OF ANIMALS. By _James E. LeRossignol_, Ph. D.
ON THE JUDGMENT OF ANGLES AND POSITIONS OF LINES. By _Joseph
Jastrow_, Ph. D.
STATISTICS OF “UNCONSCIOUS CEREBRATION.” By _Charles M. Child_.
EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY AT WELLESLEY COLLEGE. By _Mary Whiton
Calkins_. (Worcester: J. H. Orpha.)
INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF ETHICS.
CONTENTS: Vol. III. No. 2.
THE ETHICS OF SOCIAL PROGRESS. _Prof. Franklin H. Giddings._
DID THE ROMANS DEGENERATE? By _Mary Emily Case_.
POLITICAL ECONOMY AND PRACTICAL LIFE. By _Prof. William
Cunningham_.
GERMAN CHARACTER AS REFLECTED IN THE NATIONAL LIFE AND
LITERATURE. By _Richard M. Meyer_, Ph. D.
BOOK REVIEWS. (Philadelphia: _International Journal of Ethics_,
118 South Twelfth Street.)
THE PHILOSOPHICAL REVIEW.
CONTENTS: Vol. II. No. 1.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION. By _Prof. Otto Pfleiderer_.
AN ANCIENT PESSIMIST. By _Prof. J. Clark Murray_.
THE CONCEPT OF LAW IN ETHICS. By _Prof. F. C. French_.
J. H. LAMBERT. By _Harold Griffing_.
CONTENTS: Vol. II. No. 2.
KANT’S CRITICAL PROBLEM. By _J. G. Schurman_.
EPISTEMOLOGY IN LOCKE AND KANT. By _Prof. Andrew Seth_.
ANTHROPOMETRY AND EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY. By _Prof. E. B.
Titchener_.
DISCUSSIONS: Reality and Idealism. By _David G. Ritchie_ and
_F. C. S. Schiller_.
BOOK REVIEWS. (Boston, New York, Chicago: Ginn & Company.)
THE NEW WORLD.
CONTENTS: Vol. II. No. 5.
THE PLACE OF THE FOURTH GOSPEL IN THE NEW TESTAMENT LITERATURE.
By _Orello Cone_.
THE FOLK-SONG OF ISRAEL IN THE MOUTH OF THE PROPHETS. By _Karl
Budde_.
COSMOPOLITAN RELIGION. By _C. A. Bartol_.
THE ALLEGED SOCIALISM OF THE PROPHETS. By _A. W. Benn_.
WHITTIER’S SPIRITUAL CAREER. By _John W. Chadwick_.
THE PERSONAL FACTOR IN BIBLICAL INSPIRATION. By _Marvin R.
Vincent_.
ISRAEL IN EGYPT. By _C. H. Toy_.
THE BRIGGS HERESY TRIAL. By _C. R. Gillett_. (Boston: Houghton,
Mifflin & Co.)
REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE.
CONTENTS: Vol. XVII. No. 12.
LE MOUVEMENT PHILOSOPHIQUE EN RUSSIE: II. LA PHILOSOPHIE DE
HEGEL ET LES CERCLES PHILOSOPHIQUES. By _E. Lannes_.
LA COMPOSITION MUSICALE ET LES LOIS GÉNÉRALES DE LA
PSYCHOLOGIE. By _M. Paulhan_.
LA PSYCHOLOGIE DE W. JAMES (2nd article). By _L. Marillier_.
ANALYSES ET COMPTES RENDUS.
CONTENTS: Vol. XVIII. No. 1.
LA PSYCHOLOGIE DE W. JAMES (3d article). By _L. Marillier_.
LA CROYANCE MÉTAPHYSIQUE. By _J. Gourd_.
LA BEAUTÉ PLASTIQUE. By _L. Couturat_.
ANALYSES ET COMPTES RENDUS.
CONTENTS: Vol. XVIII. No. 2.
L’UNITÉ DE LA PHILOSOPHIE. By _P. Janet_.
L’EXPRESSION OBJECTIVE EN MUSIQUE D’APRÈS LE LANGAGE
INSTINCTIF. By _J. Combarieu_.
LA PSYCHOLOGIE DE W. JAMES. (Concluded.) By _L. Marillier_.
REVUE DES PÉRIODIQUES ÉTRANGERS. (Paris: Félix Alcan.)
CONTENTS: Vol. XVIII. No. 3.
RECHERCHES SUR LA SUCCESSION DES PHÉNOMÈNES PSYCHOLOGIQUES. By
_B. Bourdon_.
L’AMOUR EST-IL UN ÉTAT PATHOLOGIQUE? By _G. Danville_.
SUR UN EFFET PARTICULIER DE L’ATTENTION APPLIQUÉE AUX IMAGES.
By _André Lalande_.
BEAUTÉ ORGANIQUE ET BEAUTÉ PLASTIQUE. By _A. Naville_.
REVUE DE MÉTAPHYSIQUE ET DE MORALE.
CONTENTS: Vol. I. No. 1.
MÉTAPHYSIQUE ET MORALE. By _Félix Ravaisson_.
LE CONTINU MATHÉMATIQUE. By _H. Poincaré_.
ESSAI SUR QUELQUES PROBLÈMES DE PHILOSOPHIE PREMIÈRE. By _F.
Rauh_. (Paris: Librairie Hachette et Cie.)
VOPROSUI FILOSOFII I PSICHOLOGII.[87]
CONTENTS: Vol. III. No. 15.
THE AIM OF HUMAN LIFE. By _W. Rosanoff_.
THE PROBLEM OF JUDGMENT. By _F. Charitonoff_.
THE POSITIVISM OF KANT. By _A. Kozloff_.
THE BASIS OF THE MORAL DUTY. By _N. Grote_.
A CRITICISM OF MORAL ALTRUISM. By _W. Preobrajensky_.
THE SENSE OF LOVE. By _W. Solowoff_.
THE FOUNDER OF TRANSCENDENTAL MONISM. By _A. Wedensky_.
THE SECOND INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY IN
LONDON. By _W. Chige_.
THE QUESTION OF ZOÖPSYCHOLOGY. By _W. Wagner_.
THE LAW OF PERCEPTION. By _N. Lange_. (Moscow, 1892.)
PHILOSOPHISCHES JAHRBUCH.
CONTENTS: Vol. VI. No. 1.
UEBER DIE ACTUALE BESTIMMTHEIT DES UNENDLICH KLEINEN. By
_Pohle_.
GASSENDI’S SKEPTICISMUS UND SEINE STELLUNG ZUM MATERIALISMUS.
By _Kiefl_.
DER BEGRIFF DES “WAHREN.” By _Franz Schmid_.
DER BEGRIFF DES UNBEWUSSTEN IN PSYCHOLOGISCHER UND
ERKENNTNISSTHEORETISCHER HINSICHT BEI ED. V. HARTMANN. By
_Achelis_.
DER SUBSTANZBEGRIFF BEI CARTESIUS IM ZUSAMMENHANG MIT DER
SCHOLASTISCHEN UND NEUEREN PHILOSOPHIE. (Continued.) By _Carl
Ludewig_, S. J. (Fulda, 1893.)
SPHINX.
CONTENTS: Vol. XV. No. 84.
NIRWANA. By _Menetos_.—DIE WIEDERVERKÖRPERUNGSLEHRE IM DRAMA.
By _Ludwig Deinhard_.—DIE GNADE. By _Maria Janitschek_.—DAS
FERNSEHEN ALS FUNKTION DES TRANSSCENDENTALEN SUBJEKTS.
By _Carl du Prel_, Ph. D. (Concluded.)—AN CARL DU PREL.
By _Martin Greif_.—SEHEN UND WAHRTRÄUMEN. By _Hermann
Haug_.—UEBER DIE SPIRITISTISCHEN PHÄNOMENE VOM PHYSIKALISCHEN
STANDPUNKT. By _Dr. Anton Lampa_.—SCHULD UND SÜHNE. Ein
Beitrag zur Frage der Telepathie. By _M. Const. Hoch_.
(Concluded.)—DIE GÖTTIN DES GENUSSES. Eine Traumphantasie.
By _Karl Friedr. Jordan_.—FEGFEUER. Nach François Coppée.
By _Rudolf Geering_.—GERETTET! By _Raphael von Koeber_, Ph.
D.—MELANCHOLIE. By _Carl Vanselow_.—DIE SECHS SCHWÄNE. Ein
Beitrag zum Nachweis des Esoterismus im Volksbewusstsein.
By _Gottschalk Thorsten_.—GEHEIMNISS. By _Adolf K. W.
Hochenegg_.—EINE GEISTERSTIMME. By _Hugo Gozdawa_.—DER BEGRIFF
DES ABSOLUTEN. By _O. Plümacher_.
CONTENTS: Vol. XVI, No. 85.
LEBE DEINEM HÖCHSTEN IDEAL GETREU!—A-U-M. By
_Menetos_.—PSALMEN. By _Franz Evers_.—MEISTER DER MYSTIK.
By _Wilhelm von Saintgeorge_.—AEGYPTENS GROSSE PYRAMIDE.
Ein Tempel der Einweihung in die Mysterien. By _Eduard
Maitland_.—DIE DEUTSCHE GESELLSCHAFT FÜR ETHISCHE KULTUR UND
HERR VON EGIDY. By _Hugo von Gizycki_.—DIE MYSTIK DES ISLAM. By
_Adolf Engelbach_.—EIN ECHTER DIENER GOTTES. By _Dr. Raphael
von Koeber_.—EIN GEGNER DES SPIRITISMUS. By _Carl du Prel_.—DIE
WISSENSCHAFT DER MAGIER. By _Ludwig Deinhard_.—HEBE DICH
WEG VON MIR, SATAN! By _H. v. M._—ANNA HENLE. Ein Erlebnis.
By _Hübbe-Schleiden_.—DER STERN DER SINTFLUT. By _Arthur
Stentzel_.—SELIGE GEGENWART. By _Maria Janitschek_.—SEHNSUCHT.
By _Carl Vanselow_.—DAS ELFLEIN, DAS AUSGING, DEN KÖNIG ZU
SUCHEN. By _Bernhard Fabler_.—DER BLINDE PASSAGIER. By _Ludwig
Ganghofer_.—FRÜHLINGS ERWACHEN. Für Väter und Erzieher. By _O.
Plümacher_.—DREI KNOSPEN. By _Hans von Mosch_. (Brunswick: C.
A. Schwetschke & Son.)
We cannot be accused of having any penchant for Theosophy or Spiritualism and find little occasion to praise their productions, which are usually crude and illiterate. But we must confess that Hübbe-Schleiden’s review, the _Sphinx_, is greatly superior to anything in this field we have ever seen. There is artistic taste about it; there is, so far as its position admits of, a certain contact with positive science; there is an attractive popularity without shallowness. All these means are skilfully employed by the editor to impress his ideas, erroneous though they may be, upon his public. If the magazine appeared in English, instead of German, it would at once become the recognised leader in its field.
FOOTNOTES:
[87] _Questions of Philosophy and Psychology._
VOL. III. JULY, 1893. NO. 4.
THE MONIST.
NATIONALISATION OF EDUCATION AND THE UNIVERSITIES.[88]
A little more than a century ago it was universally believed that, in the nature of things, the vitality of a republic and its size stand in an inverse ratio. The inadaptability of a republican system of government to a state of vast territorial expanse and with a very numerous population was considered an almost axiomatic, i. e. self-evident, truth. When the thirteen English colonies in North America had taken the bold resolution to transform themselves into the United States of America, many an ardent patriot often asked himself, not free from anxious foreboding, whether the Union was within the limits laid down by irreversible political laws, as the utmost extent of republics fit to endure. If it had not been for the size of the country, the doubts as to whether the republican experiment was likely to prove a success, would never have assumed a character, which gave sufficient color to the charge of monarchical tendencies, to make them appear well-founded in the eyes of so many people. When afterwards a new empire was to be added to the Union by the Louisiana purchase, the doubt, as to whether the republican system of government would be equal to the strain put upon it by such an immense enlargement of the area of the United States, played a not unimportant part among the objections of the opposition. That experience has definitively disposed of these ideas, by proving the apprehensions to be unfounded, is no reason to think meanly of the political discernment of those who entertained them. It will not be universally admitted, that experience has thus far proved them to be wholly unfounded also as to consolidated republics. And how can it be wondered at, that at that time the essential difference was not fully realised and understood, which exists between a federal and a consolidated republic with regard to the peculiar dangers and evils apt to arise from this specific cause. Though republican federations had been known to the world for two thousand years, no instruction was to be derived from their history on this head. As to the extent of territory, the consolidated Roman republic, which had consumed its vitality with its growth, could alone be compared with the United States; and as to many of the essential features of their political structure, neither modern nor ancient history furnished an analogy. In the soil of the New World, the germs of European institutions had—adapting themselves to the new conditions—developed into a new type of commonwealth.
It is conceded on all sides that, next to the capacity of the American people for self-government, the United States owe it primarily to the happy blending of the principles of National Union and State Independence that, taking all in all, hitherto their history has been the most striking and convincing vindication of republican institutions; and it is hardly questioned that, but for the happy blending of these two principles, a republic comprising half the North American continent and possessed of all the requisites of vitality never would nor could have existed. Upon their being “an indestructible Union of indestructible States,” the vitality of the United States absolutely depends. That, with this principle as the foundation, the domain of a republic _can_ be almost indefinitely extended, without thereby destroying its vital energies, has been irrefutably demonstrated. But does that mean, that the United States have definitively solved the problem of keeping the vital forces of a republic covering a vast area unimpaired? By no means. Only the preliminary question has been settled by them for all time to come, what the indispensable prerequisite of its solution is, and they have thus far succeeded in preserving their vitality. But even as to themselves, the solution of the problem itself has to be repeated over and over again, not only by generation after generation, but every year and every day. The hour never will, never can come, when the American people can, with impunity, say: the task is accomplished; let us rest and enjoy the fruits. It never can come, because the problem itself is in a continuous state of transformation. Though the changes be so slow, that they are imperceptible to the keenest eye trying to follow them up from year to year, they are none the less real, and if they are not duly heeded, the penalty will have to be paid some time in one way or another. While the fundamental principle, the blending of National Union and State Independence, is irreversible, the attempt to make its application immutable, would be fatal. I say the attempt, for actually to do it, is, in the nature of things, impossible. The American people are not only constitutionally a nation. The civil war did not result in the permanent disruption of the Union, but in welding it more indissolubly together, because, with the single exception of slavery, the facts coincided with the law. In spite of the tremendous sectionalising influence exercised by slavery, the nationalisation in feeling, thinking, and interests had made such progress under the operation and protection of the law of the land, that it could stand as severe a test, as any consolidated State can boast of having stood. The causes, to which it was due, that the facts were in conformity with the law, have been ever since unremittingly at work,—the counter-tendencies have disappeared with the abolishment of slavery,—and, independent of that, those causes are every year acquiring a greater force. The actual nationalisation, therefore, goes steadily on, whether we like it or not, and though the constitutional nationalisation be allowed to remain unchanged. While the legal status under the Constitution may not be altered for ever so long, we are confronted by constantly changing conditions. If we do not conform in what we do and leave undone to the irrepressible changes of this evolutionary process, the maintenance of the principle of blending National Union and State Independence will avail us but little. The vital energies will dry up and ebb away, for while we have kept the form, we have become strangers to the spirit which renders it a magic force. Nor ought the dividing line between political parties to run, as in days of yore, on the question of State rights and consolidation. All discriminating patriots must be as well State rights men as consolidationists, respectively conscious supporters and promoters of further nationalisation. Where and how ought State independence to be strengthened, so as to prevent an over-consolidation by the silent working of those nationalising causes, which it is impossible to stem? and: Where and how ought consolidation, respectively nationalisation, to be promoted, in order to make the working of those nationalising causes conducive to the true interests of the people and to the invigorating of republican institutions? These are the two questions which the American people have constantly to ask themselves. On the discretion and discernment displayed in trying to find the correct answers must it depend, whether the federative principle will work as well in the future, as it has done in the past.
If these propositions must be admitted, it can be proved that in no respect is conscious and systematic nationalisation more imperatively needed than in regard to education. At first sight this assertion may seem worse than extravagant. I am, however, not afraid to submit my case to the jury of the American people, if I am but conceded the legal right of every criminal, to be heard ere I am judged.
Education is the bed-rock on which this republic rests. However excellent its political institutions be, its decay and ultimate downfall is inevitable, if the people fail to do their full duty by themselves in this respect. For, in a democratic republic, political institutions are live forces only so far as the people have the mental and moral requirements for working them well, and these mental and moral requirements can be attained only by education. It is, therefore, in the strictest sense of the word, a _vital_ question for the republic that every one of its sons and daughters receive not only some schooling, but that the education of all be proper and adequate. That is a tremendous task. It constantly grows in scope and intricacy, and at the same time, it becomes of more and more import that it be well accomplished. With the people rests the ultimate decision in everything, and the problems confronting the commonwealth are assuming more and more a character, taxing the highest statesmanship to the utmost. Thus the claims upon the intelligence and the moral soundness of the people are fast being strained far beyond anything ever known by any former generation in this or any other country. And lack of the required intelligence and moral soundness in any one State necessarily affects the whole Union. A State that is derelict to its duty in the education of its people, wrongs not only itself, but also the nation. By its share in the federal government, every State is directly instrumental in laying down the law for the whole country. All the States are thereby made to participate in the payment of the penalty for its intellectual and moral deficiencies. This is, however, by no means the only way in which they are made to suffer by them. What the law does with regard to everything rendered federal by the Constitution; commerce, travel, and interchange of population do in other respects. They are unremittingly and with ever increasing intensity at work, multiplying and rendering more close the organic relations between all the parts of the vast domain, every water-way, railroad-track, and telegraph line performing the functions of the veins in the animal organism. If the blood be poisoned in one limb, the virus cannot be prevented from working its way into the whole system.
To admit that education is in the highest degree a national _interest_, and to deny its being a national _concern_, is, however, a self-contradiction. To contest either the right or the duty of a nation to acknowledge every national interest a national concern, and to deal with it accordingly, is a palpable absurdity. Not as to the Whether, but only as to the How, can the people be restricted by the Constitution. A constitution imposing upon the people an injunction to minister to the needs of the commonwealth, would be as great a political monstrosity as a constitution providing for the dissolution of the state.
This doctrine will not be allowed to pass unchallenged. I shall be asked whether I set myself against the universally accepted fundamental principle of American constitutional law, that the federal government has no powers but those granted to it by the Constitution. I do not. “Where, then,” my interlocutor will go on, “do you find the express grant or the implied power?” Nowhere. “Then you advocate a constitutional amendment to the effect indicated by you?” I do not. I know that such an amendment could not get the vote of a single state, and if there were a possibility of its being adopted by the constitutional number of states, I should be found, to the last, among those fighting it tooth and nail. I can hardly conceive of a more suicidal measure than the adoption of such an amendment. Just because education is the bed-rock on which the republic rests, is it of vital importance that it does not become a federal affair. Self-reliance and responsibility are the main pillars supporting a democratic commonwealth. Kill, in the people of a state and the population of its subdivisions, the habit of self-reliance and the sense of responsibility in regard to the substratum of the whole political and social structure, and they will wither and shrivel up in regard to everything else. The compulsion to tax themselves directly for the establishment and maintenance of schools and the being in close touch with those entrusted with the direction of the educational work are an inestimable boon to the people.
Even if it were economically possible to do without direct taxes, political reasons would peremptorily forbid their abolishment. On account of their moral effect, no state could dispense with them, and least of all a democracy. All indirect taxes are paid more or less unconsciously; the people, however, must be kept conscious that the public purse means their own pockets. The more they lose sight of this, the wider the door is opened to paternalism, and paternalism is a more deadly enemy of liberty than despotism and tyranny. These, if any vitality be left in the people, ultimately kindle the desire for liberty, while paternalism acts upon it as an opiate and ends by killing it through the systematic enervation of self-government. If this is to be kept alive not only in form, but also in essence and in spirit, the people must constantly be held to teach themselves in illustrating by their own acts the irrefutable truth, that not the rights, but the self-imposed duties are the vital principle of true democracy. Nothing, however, is more apt to drive this all-important fact irresistibly home, implanting it ineradicably in their whole feeling and in their conscious thinking, than the necessity to vote, as directly as possible, out of their own pockets the money required for preserving intact and in vigor the prerequisite of _all_ that is needed for the preservation of the nation’s vitality. If it be not deemed irreverent, I should say that every dollar a man voluntarily votes out of his pocket to provide for the educational needs of the community, preaches to him a political “Sermon on the Mount.” “Liberty and self-government,” it says, “must be paid for;—state and society are in their very essence ethical conceptions;—they must totter, fall, and crumble to pieces, unless they rest on an ethical foundation;—to preserve, broaden, and deepen this foundation, by providing for the required intellectual and moral equipment of the generations in whose hands the future destinies of the commonwealth will lie, is the paramount duty of the people;—no one has the right to exempt himself from doing his share in the fulfilment of this duty, for the heirloom of the past, enjoyed by the present, is but a trust to be left, with accrued interest, to the future;—the fulfilment of this duty ought to be considered rather a privilege than a sacrifice, for every farthing paid for the maintenance of the humblest village school is an integral part of the nation’s life-insurance premium;—glory in this responsibility to the whole country, for it constitutes you, with the wealthiest and mightiest, a joint builder of its greatness;—glory in thus bearing witness by the fruit of the sweat of your brow, that you, too, are sworn in on the creed that man does not live by bread alone;—glory in and render thanks for being thus held to keep ablaze in your own bosom and help kindle in the bosom of the lowliest child of the community, the sacred fire of idealism.”
That by many, perhaps by most people, this appeal is not heard in distinct words, I do not contest. But that is no reason to make light of it. Utterly lost it never is. Something of it sinks into the mind even of the dullest and most hard-hearted, though it be but in the form of a faint and vague feeling. To make them lose this, is to deprive them of the best they have. Democracy is not a mill-pond, on which a fragile boat can outride the wildest tempest. It is the open sea, on which the proudest and stoutest craft is sure to be swamped, sooner or later, if it be not properly ballasted. True idealism, however, never was a more essential part of the ballast, than in these times and in this country. It stands more in need of it than any other state, because its unparalleled opportunities are appallingly powerful incentives to plunge headlong into the materialistic tendencies of the age. Therefore, it is ruthless to lay hands on anything tending to keep alive and foster true idealism in the people. For this reason it would be, in my opinion,—not in intention, but in effect,—a dastardly crime, under any plea whatever, to release the people from the obligation to provide in their local organisations for the education of their youths.
Therefore, I even deem it upon the whole more beneficial than detrimental that many of the higher and most of the highest educational institutions of the country are the free gift of high-minded men and women to the people. I have never agreed with those who have contended in this country that the duty of the commonwealth does not extend beyond providing for primary and, at the most, to some extent for secondary education, and that it would not be fair and proper to tax all for the establishment and maintenance of colleges and universities, which, in the nature of the case, only a small minority can frequent. It would be hard to name a more promising sign of the times, than that this doctrine has of late lost so much of its former hold upon public opinion, that one would have to search long for an advocate of it in its original rigor. It is eminently in the interest of all, that there be an ample number of men and women who have received the highest education. Therefore, it is evidently not only justified, but imperative, that the commonwealth furnish the means for supplying its want. But if the views held in this respect on the continent of Europe had prevailed in the United States, the American people would have been the poorer of one of the vastest and most grateful fields for manifesting idealistic public-spiritedness. An inestimable loss, for idealistic public-spiritedness is not the least of the causes to which it is due that American democracy has stood the test; and idealistic public-spiritedness, like every virtue, grows stronger and more fruitful by being practised. Every donation for educational purposes prompts others to follow suit, and is, apart from its direct beneficent effects, a most valuable object-lesson to the whole nation. With equal impressiveness, the rich and the poor are reminded of the treasures which “neither moth nor rust doth corrupt.” On every educational institution brought into existence in such a way are indelibly inscribed the two magic words to which this country owes it greatness: Help yourself, and Public Spirit; every one of them is a living protest, as well against paternalism—whether it present itself in the socialistic or in any other garb—as against the setting up of the golden calf as the idol of the republic. Therefore, everything tending to seriously check these manifestations of idealism and public spirit in regard to higher education would be deplorable, even if it were in itself commendable, for paternalism and materialism are too rampant to leave anything undone that is calculated to keep them down.
To contend that the existing decentralisation in regard to education must be done away with, would, for these reasons, be a truly Quixotic charge upon windmills: the venture must result in broken bones. It cannot, and, if it could, ought not to be done, for this decentralisation is the natural outgrowth of the whole historical development of the commonwealth and in perfect accordance with the underlying principle of its political and social structure. But it would be strange logic to conclude from this that it can have worked no harm, or that the evil consequences it may have had cannot be remedied. Can it be denied that, apart from the primary schools, it sounds almost like mockery to speak of an American system of education? If we look at the schools of a higher grade, we are confronted by a bewildering chaos, and the nearer the top, the worse the confusion becomes. That the effects of this are not altogether good, will be universally admitted, though opinions will differ as to the weight that ought to be attached to the bad consequences in the aggregate and severally. To me, some of them seem to be of a very serious character, and I hold that they must from year to year become of more consequence. To say that somebody has been through a “high school,” does not convey sufficiently definite information as to either the kind or the amount of instruction he has received. To know that somebody is a graduate of an “academy,” a “college,” a “university,” means to know next to nothing as to his mental equipment. To gauge our man, we must inquire, What academy, what college, what university? Having learned that, we are in hundreds of cases not a whit wiser than before. We have to ask for the calendar of the institution, and, after having read that, we shall often be still pretty much at sea, for, as the Germans say, “paper is patient,” and the printing of a first-class programme implies by no means of necessity first-class instruction. This may be considered by some of little or no moment, because the degrees confer no rights whatever. But they are, nevertheless, not senseless gewgaws. If they be deemed such, their abolishment must be insisted upon, for then they are as much out of place in this country as orders or other meaningless titles. They are intended to be certificates of knowledge and mental training. If they lose this character, they are nothing, or worse than nothing. It is, however, self-evident that they must be deprived of this character, exactly to the extent that the educational institutions bearing the same name and conferring the same degrees differ from each other. Do you not think it more than likely that, if a law were passed making it obligatory to add to the letters indicating a degree the name of the institution by which it was conferred, an astounding number of ornamental tails to names would be cut off forever?
This would not be done, if the degrees merely failed to be definite and reliable certificates of knowledge and mental training. They do positive harm, because the institutions conferring them have little more in common than the name, their educational standard differing in the extremes, as much as the crippled shrub and the sturdy oak. While the public do not know what value to attach to the degree, a large percentage of the recipients are betrayed into offensive and pernicious self-deception. Upon the official averment of their _alma mater_, they lay the flattering unction to their soul that they have received a much better intellectual outfit than they really possess. These institutions practically reverse the precept of the Greek sage: not “know thyself,” but “deceive thyself” is the maxim imprinted on their diplomas. And this self-deception is a subtle, contagious virus. It is at least doubtful, whether more will take warning by looking through the false pretense, or be lured by it into the same mistaken notions as to the requirements of genuine higher education. To have practically no fixed standards for the different grades of higher education must as inevitably have mischievous effects upon the intellectual life of a people, as its economic life must be demoralised by allowing everybody to coin money of the same outward appearance, but of any alloy he pleases. Not that harm has been done by the almost unlimited freedom enjoyed by the educational institutions owing their existence to private munificence, is to be wondered at; it is astonishing that the deleterious effects have not been much worse. A premium is offered for sailing under a false flag. If a college may be called a university, and an academy a college, it would be more than surprising if the grander name were not frequently preferred, for it flatters alike the vanity of the donors, the instructors, and the pupils, and will—with more or less reason—be expected to work as a bait. With the name goes the right to confer degrees, and the exercising of this privilege is to serve the same purposes. But the name renders it necessary to keep up appearances, and that is an expensive pleasure. The masquerading in a pretentious guise cuts down the allowance of wholesome food. Worthless universities instead of good colleges, inferior colleges instead of satisfactory academies and fitting schools, are but too often the result. No name will deprive the rose of its sweet scent; but the buttercup cannot, with impunity, call itself a rose.
The worst, however, is, that even the best institutions of the higher order are made to pay a heavy penalty for the shortcomings of those of the lower rank. Not getting the proper material, they do not turn out as good work as they in themselves might do. Much valuable time, which ought to be devoted to going on with the building, must be spent in mending and strengthening the deficient foundation, which, after all, does not acquire the requisite solidity, because mending is necessarily patchwork. Nor is the damage confined to the pupils that have been sent up from inefficient schools. These act as a drag upon those who have come adequately prepared. To render matters worse, the deficiencies are neither the same with all, nor is it known beforehand where they will be found and how far they will extend. Neither are the curricula the same, nor is there any guaranty that the same curriculum means the same work done. Here so many things have been taught, that everything has suffered in regard to thoroughness. There, specialisation has commenced so early, that the basis is too narrow and too shallow. Training for a special purpose has encroached upon education. All these difficulties greatly hamper the institution. But they do more. They exercise a strong pressure upon it to stray from the right path, for they are powerful incentives to yield to the evil tendency, more to measure, than to weigh the work done. This is, in my opinion, the most deplorable of all the bad consequences which the lack of a uniform system, resulting from the decentralisation of education, has thus far had; and it is all the more dangerous, because the measuring principle is so well fitted to be clad in the seductive garb of a lucid and clear-cut system.
I do not expect that every one of my propositions will be universally assented to. But can any unprejudiced observer dispute that there is enough truth in what I have said to prompt the people seriously to ponder the question, where this is going to end? If no conscious, energetic, and concerted effort be made to counteract the evil effects of decentralisation, the very fact of higher education having assumed such a kaleidoscopic character renders inevitable its becoming more and more kaleidoscopic. The founders, boards of trustees, presidents, and faculties of new institutions are almost compelled to give their individual notions on higher education, to a dangerous extent, free scope. Having a hundred different patterns presented to their consideration, the temptation is well-nigh irresistible not to adopt any one of them, but to devise a new one. A new experimenting laboratory is set up. That its experiments will be, positively or negatively, of some value, is to be supposed. In most cases, however, the public interest would have been better served by a good factory, renouncing the risky ambition of dabbling with new inventions.
A European is struck with wonderment that, considering the extent to which decentralisation in higher education has been carried, not infinitely more harm has been done, and that the harm it does, seems to impress the Americans comparatively so little. Neither can be understood, unless one fully realises to what a degree the American commonwealth is still in its formative period, and what an astounding educational power there is in American life. To the former it is principally due, that the deleterious effects mentioned are here in fact of much less consequence, than they would be, where the advantages of an historical development, counting by more than centuries, are paid for by the rigidity of age; and the latter supplements and corrects the work of the schools so effectively, that it is not surprising to find even many a keen-sighted and highly accomplished American more or less blindfolded as to this. Because the ultimate results are satisfactory, it is taken for granted, that the educational conditions of the country must be all right, while a searching critical examination irresistibly forces upon one the question, whether a good deal is not achieved in spite of them. If this be so, failure to promptly attend to what is defective in them will surely be punished, for thanks to the rapidity with which the United States are being filled up, their formative period is fast drawing to a close, and with its close, the educational power of American life will be, in some important respects, very sensibly diminished. The peculiar advantages, they have thus far enjoyed, are steadily growing weaker, while intellectually and morally, the difficulties confronting the whole civilised world, and difficulties peculiar to them, are as steadily making greater demands upon the people. Growth of population and development of economical life, with all its attending circumstances, constantly working at the further nationalisation of the American people, and the problems to be solved growing more and more intricate, disaster must become inevitable, if education does not keep abreast of this double movement; and this it cannot do, if we do not energetically and systematically go to work to nationalise education without consolidating it. Nor have we any time to lose, for the task is by no means easy. Every inch of ground gained will be the price of an arduous and protracted struggle.
From the Federal Government no direct assistance is to be derived, for the question is not within the province of its constitutional powers, and if it were, we ought not to ask its interference, because, as I said, to nationalise education without consolidating it, is to be the aim. Public opinion, unaided by law, must effect the reform. Public opinion, however, is in this country even more powerful than the law. It is sure finally to overcome not only all active, but even all passive resistance, which is always much harder to overcome. But is there any possibility of ever inducing public opinion to take the question up in full earnest? I am confident there is, and at all events it must be tried. The difficulty of the task is no excuse for not undertaking it. It only admonishes us, not to waste time, strength, and enthusiasm in vain attempts to carry the fortress by assault. The works are so extended and so strong that only a methodical siege requiring a great deal of skill, patience, and determination, offers any chance of success. Two preliminary questions must, therefore, be answered, ere operations can be commenced: who is to conduct the campaign, and by what tactics can the approaches be pushed on the fastest?
The answer to be given to the first question is plain. The instructors are to be considered the experts, if anybody can claim the title. Upon them, therefore, devolves the duty to take the lead. This they have already commenced to do. The very existence of a National Educational (Teacher’s) Association is in itself irrefutable proof that the opinions advanced by me, have, in some way and to some extent, asserted themselves for some time. How this has been done and what has been effected, I do not feel called upon to discuss. I merely state that while I appreciate what it has done and expect from it still more in the future, I am firmly convinced that the goal can never be reached if we are to content ourselves with what this organisation is capable of achieving. This will be deemed the less disparaging, if I furthermore state that, in my opinion, the end could no more be attained by any other organisation acting singlehanded. Hunting for any one device which will as certainly effect a cure as patent medicines claim to cure bodily ailments, is but to waste time. The evil has to be attacked from many points and in many ways, if sanitation is to set in.
While I am fully persuaded of this, I am, however, on the other hand as firmly convinced that nothing will be of avail if the Universities do not step forward, heading the column of attack and adding compulsion to suasion. The reform has to be worked from the top downward. At present the law is, to a great extent, dictated by the schools of the lower grade to those of the higher. This must be reversed. The Universities must insist upon getting the proper material for doing what in their judgment is the proper work. They must cease fitting themselves to what the schools are pleased to send them. By closing their doors against all applicants whom they do not really deem adequately prepared, they must compel the schools, either to take down from their portals the inscription “fitting school,” or to mend their ways and furnish their pupils the kind and the amount of instruction they ought. A University that meekly submits to travel on whatever roads some hundreds of schools, which all more or less follow their own notions, happen to think good enough, never can be a University except in name. No institution has a moral right to the proud name of University that does not, consciously and determinately, do all that is in its power to direct its educational policy solely by what the civilisation of the age and the true interests of the nation require.
I wish the old maxim _ultra posse nemo obligatur_ did not compel me to say “to do all that is in its power,” for I am but too well aware how deplorably little that is in many cases. State Universities are subject to another will, and this other will is apt to have very much its own notions as to how much a University may be allowed to cost, and to determine the standard of the University entirely by the local standard of schools. Other Universities, though legally their own masters, are practically restrained as much or even more by implacable facts. No University can entirely dispense with students, and the endowment of more than one University forbids its making light of the number of students it can secure. Being to some extent dependent upon the students for their maintenance, they cannot afford to be very fastidious in regard to the standard of schools they try to enlist into their constituency. But there is also a goodly number of Universities whose position is in absolutely every respect so strong that they can enter the lists without any risk whatever to themselves. Whether they stop growing for a while or even decline in numbers for some years does not affect their future in the least. They are so much in quest by students that the fitting schools are sure to make haste to meet their requirements, if these rise above their curriculum. To move on in wild leaps would, of course, be foolish. But so long as these Universities do not do that they never need to look backward in their onward march; their whole constituency of schools must follow close upon their heels, because they cannot afford to bolt and drop out. The more the leading Universities proceed upon a concerted plan, the larger the circle would grow, within which their joint pressure would be irresistible: the strength of each would be doubled by pressing on, shoulder to shoulder with the others, on the same lines. At the same time it will make it correspondingly easier for the weaker ones to follow in their wake. How could it fail to make an impression upon those on whom they depend, if they can back their pleas by urging the practical unanimity of all the foremost institutions of the country as to the right course to take? The more the leading Universities are united, not only as to the scope and method of their own work, but also as to what is to be considered the proper preparation for University work, the more will deviations from the rules laid down by them come to imply to public opinion inferiority of standard; and if there is a whip under which American communities smart, it is this. As to this would be added the missionary influences of the alumni sent from the leading Universities into all parts of the republic, it would be strange indeed, if the idea were not constantly to spread and to cast deeper root, that to adequately provide for the educational needs of the country, it is necessary consciously to create and systematically to foster a tendency, by the free action of public opinion, more and more to harmonise education, in developing it everywhere and in all its ramifications into a thoroughly organic structure.
I am prepared to hear the opinions I have ventured to advance strenuously contested and, perhaps, even mercilessly ridiculed by many. The open antagonists, however, cause me but little uneasiness. I fear only one thing, i. e. that those who more or less endorse my criticisms and agree with me as to what is desirable, will be induced by the arduousness of the work to persuade themselves that it is impossible to bring about such a reform. To them I should say: Where there is a will, there is a way, and the American people _must_ be brought to will this reform, because every year a portentous word is becoming more true and of greater import: “the age of perils is past, but the age of difficulties has set it.”
H. VON HOLST.
FOOTNOTES:
[88] Commencement address at the Nebraska State University, June 7, 1893.
MEANING AND METAPHOR.
Professor Huxley supposes[89] “that so long as the human mind exists, it will not escape its deep-seated instinct to personify its intellectual conceptions.” He finds that “the science of the present day is as full of this particular form of intellectual shadow-worship as is the nescience of ignorant ages.” The difference he sees is “that the philosopher who is worthy of the name knows that his personified hypotheses, such as law, and force, and ether, and the like, are merely useful symbols, while the ignorant and the careless take them for adequate expressions of reality.” He then goes on to warn us against dealing with symbols as though they were “real existences.”
Few indeed are free from reproach in this matter, so far as reproach is deserved at all in the general unconsciousness of what constitutes the danger. Few see the question to be vital or the danger to be urgent; and even those who do are apt to deny that the search for a remedy can be a crusade worth attempting; the very idea seems Utopian or pedantic. On the one hand, teachers as a rule do not take their own analogies and metaphors seriously. Both the literary and scientific, as well as the philosophic and historical instinct tell against their doing so. In their eyes figures have either faded into indifferent abstractions, or they are obviously pictorial and merely rhetorical. But the average reader is apt to take them at the foot of the letter. He is usually unaware both of the extent to which he literalises and of the curious inconsistencies which his literalising involves. So he makes his inferences with alight heart, and wonders, perhaps, at the resulting confusion without suspecting its true cause.
Would that the real state of the case and its practical consequences could be pressed home to all with such force, that whatever be our line of work or thought or expression we should strive in earnest to mend matters. At least, we might begin by learning better what part symbolism plays in the rituals of expression, and ask ourselves what else is language itself but symbolism, and what it symbolises. We should then examine anew the relations of the “symbolic” to the “real”; of image, figure, metaphor, to what we call literal or actual. For this concerns us all. Imagery runs in and out, so to speak, from the symbolic to the real world and back again. As matters stand, we never know where we are because we know so little where our phrases or our words are; indeed, perhaps they and we are “neither here nor there.” Or, if we do know where we are, we cannot be sure that our hearer or reader knows where he is. He, too, is probably “neither here nor there.” He often praises or agrees with us in the wrong place or the wrong manner. That is worse than being complained of or differed from; it is difficult to repudiate approval. Nor can we take refuge in lucidity and fancy that the clear must be the true. In the long run and in the cases which _signify_ most, there is no escape through merely lucid style or method. The “luminous” speaker or writer, the “forcible” orator or essayist, the moment he tries to convey to the public mind a thought which is really new, will find himself hampered by his very clearness itself. His ideas are controverted on assumptions not really his; or he himself is misled in subtle ways by what he assumes in others.
Thus, by an instructive paradox, the clearest writer is often the most controversial; and he wonders at our perverseness as, while we admire his power and his “style,” we wonder at the perverseness in him. We possibly agree with him in ways we do not suspect; he possibly agrees with us in senses he ignores. Such a writer may pride himself on a chary use of metaphor, or on a carefully sharp distinction between “image” and “thing” or “object.” But he is liable to forget the danger dogging him even here. One is tempted to say that there is only one term more figurative as well as more ambiguous than “metaphorical,” and that is “literal.” Most certainly much that is called “literal” is tinged with the figurative in varying degrees, not always easy to distinguish, even with the help of context. The word “literal” itself is indeed a case in point. It has rarely, if ever, any reference to writing.
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The Monist, Vol. 3, 1892-1893Chapter XXVI: Part IX: , p. 475, 1890), Dr. Johnstone Stoney, F. R. S., published an (16)
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